To Kill or Kiss
by EndlessKnot
Summary: A SwanQueen reimagined season 4A with a slow burn. There is was. Her biggest emotional trigger and Emma slammed into it. Somewhere between the last comment and now Regina snapped and allowed herself to slip. She welcomed the familiar rush of heat, the feel of volatile, fiery power filling her soul. There was no hesitation when she launched forward.
1. Forest Encounter

_Summary: When Emma spies Regina in the forest during her morning jog, she seizes the opportunity to apologise for bringing Marian back. Angry that yet another chance at happiness has been ripped away from her and also unable to unleash her frustration, Regina has pulled away from everyone. Emma is not taking Regina's silence well._

_Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership over the characters in this fan fiction for they belong to Once Upon A Time's creators, writers and ABC. I give credit to the writers of the show for the main plot and sequence of events this story follows._

_This story is my first attempt at writing fiction and I would greatly appreciate your thoughts. Also, feel free to comment on any spelling/ grammatical errors you spot._

* * *

With closed eyes, Regina deeply inhaled the earthly concoction of cedar trees and cool, crisp autumn air. The secluded section of the forest overlooking Storybrooke had come to serve as her personal solace. An escape from the long, penetrating stares of town residents who only saw her for her past grievances. Relief from a son whose eyes still held a glimmer of mistrust. Here she was free from both faint and fresh memories of love's plucked before they had a chance to come to fruition. Most importantly, she found peace from overwhelming regret.

It could be argued that others (namely one glittery, dagger possessing sorcerer and a controlling, emotionally abusive mother) had played a significant role in the sequence of events that lead to the casting of the curse and indirectly to her current situation. Emma had brought Marian back. Robin's Marian.

Regina and Robin's shared experience of loss and the comfort they took in each other was part of their mutual attraction. It was glaringly apparent that Robin was once whole-heartedly devoted to his late wife. He recounted memories of Marian with a wavering voice and a distant, glazed expression. Regina could so easily relate to his pain. If not for this understanding, Regina would have fought for him. Robin's eye's beheld a renewed lightness in the presence of Marian. When Robin asked to dissolve their relationship she acquiesced, knowing that she could never be the cause of such delirious happiness.

In these moments of clarity, beneath the cool shade of ancient towering trees, Regina surrendered to her reality. Villains don't deserve happily ever afters. It was truly foolish to think otherwise. Regina recognized that it was her own childish hatred and misguided sense of revenge that resulted in her constant state of disarray. It was only a matter of time before her karma caught up with her.

A loud snap of a twig jolted Regina from her dream-like trance. In the corner of her eye she spied the unmistakable blonde mane of Emma Swan. As consequence of not having spoken to anyone in the past few days, Regina's voice sounded gravelly and foreign to her as the words came out, "Going somewhere, Miss Swan?"

* * *

During her morning runs Emma had come to know the forest covered mountains near the town like the back of her hand. Her routes through dense forest and past small streams had even stamped out trails of bare earth amongst the foliage littered forest floor. Unleashing her energy on the green terrain was where she had first come to terms with being thrust into a life with the family she thought had abandoned her.

Not having seen anyone in the forest for the past few days, she was surprised to spot a lone figure in the blur of her peripheral vision. Slowing to a quiet walk, Emma immediately recognised the trademark black heels, coat and styled brown locks. Since the Marian incident one week ago, Regina had rarely been sighted around town. When Regina had stormed out of Granny's that eventful evening, Emma expected rage to follow. In fact, she much preferred rage over this torture.

Regina had completely ceased face-to-face contact with Emma, only communicating through Henry when absolutely necessary. Emma had utilised every form of communication in order to re-establish contact – phone, text, email, messages through other people and even a letter of apology by post. If silence could be heard, Regina's was resounding. In the sunlit hours, it echoed in the back of Emma's mind and when darkness inevitably followed, it became deafening.

As she inched closer, a torrent of thoughts raced through her mind. She contemplated different phrases, the correct tone to express the depth of her sincerity. When the length of Regina's form came into focus, her gaze lingered on smooth, prominent calves accentuated by sinfully high heels. She pondered how the woman had trekked through thick forest in heels before recalling her unique transportation style - the periwinkle poof.

Upon seeing her face, Emma's resolve to apologise weakened considerably. The stark contrast between Emma's recollections of the Mayor's passionately animated face, and the serene expression it currently held was unnerving. The only movement observable was the slight rise and fall of her chest accompanying each breath. Hesitant to disturb what looked like a deep meditation, Emma started to back away. When the twig snapped, Emma knew she had been caught even before Regina's low, powerful voice acknowledged her presence.


	2. Wrong Move

Regina had turned around to find her tip toeing backwards. Realising she was on the verge of a head-tree collision, Emma shuffled sideways in order to correct her backward trajectory. Instead she rolled her ankle on a rock and found herself falling toward the very same tree she tried to avoid. Fortunately, Emma caught herself in a push up position before her head had a chance to crash into the thick tree roots lining the forest floor.

"And 50, 51, 52," Emma began lowering herself to the ground and pushing upwards in fluid, well-practiced movements.

"As charming as ever, I see," Regina declared. Emma supposed the comment was intended to be delivered with an element of mockery. Instead, the woman sounded completely defeated. She looked to see whether her awkward fall had at least caused a small smirk of amusement, any sign that Regina was open to being approached. To Emma's disappointment, just like her voice, there was no amusement in her face.

Despite being irritated for her disrupted peace, Regina observed the source of her disturbance, taking in the golden locks, muscled shoulders and flexing triceps, with a cool, expressionless demeanour. "In case you misunderstood Miss Swan, when someone continually ignores your messages and calls it means they do not wish to speak to you."

Emma completed one final push up before rolling to a side and seating herself against the enormous trunk of a nearby tree. "Oh I got your message alright - loud and clear," Emma puffed out. "As you can see," she gestured over her sweat soaked body, "I was running, not on a mission to locate you."

"Coincidence aside, I do not appreciate being spied upon, especially when I have been explicitly clear that I want nothing to do with you."

"Listen Regina, I only came over to apologise," Emma sighed, giving no indication she intended to move from her relaxed, seated position.

Heat was rising up from within Regina as her frustration threatened to reveal itself. Was it Emma's aim to disarm her defences by positioning herself on a lower plane? Did Emma expect her to reciprocate her casual air? Whatever the motive, this display of vulnerability only succeeded in further aggravating her irritation. Regina hoovered her hand over her abdominal and took a deep, prolonged breath. "I don't want you to apologise."

Regina's comment took the blonde a second to process. "I have to. We can't move forward otherwise"

"Who can't move forward? I certainly can." Regina replied confidently but was unsure of how long she could maintain the level of civility required for this specific conversation, particularly in the presence of the pathetic, pleading expression the blonde currently wore.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I am not doing anything, Miss Swan."

"Exactly! You're not doing anything." Emma rose to her feet, thoroughly peeved at Regina's unusual display of passiveness. "All you're doing is shutting everyone out, shutting me out. I thought we were starting to become friends."

"You certainly have a twisted view of what friendship entails Emma," Regina noted bitterly.

"I'm the one who has a twisted view?" Emma's outraged response was so instantaneous she failed to notice that Regina had finally used her first name. "I'm not the twisted one who terrorised and slaughtered hundreds of people to chase down an innocent girl in the pursuit revenge. For what? Breaking a promise? Doing what she thought was the right thing?"

There is was. Her biggest emotional trigger and Emma slammed into it. Somewhere between the last comment and now Regina snapped and allowed herself to slip. She welcomed the familiar rush of heat, the feel of volatile, fiery power filling her soul. There was no hesitation when she launched forward.

* * *

The brunette's speed was terrifyingly fast. Emma witnessed the shift in deep, darkening brown eyes and registered the force of the smaller woman slamming her back into the tree trunk almost simultaneously. Whatever minuscule chance she had of apologising, of taking back some control of the conversation, dissipated after her thoughtless remark about Regina's past. Although the blonde was not overly fond of being pinned down (she preferred pinning in other contexts), she made no effort to move. Emma felt bizarrely comforted by the brunette's act of aggression - a furious Mayor was an improvement on an unresponsive, despondent Regina. Emma only fought to regain lost air as she waited for the brunette to exact her punishment.

Regina smiled wildly and wickedly when she heard the satisfying, dull crack produced by the collision of spine and bark. Her fist, full with the cold, wet fabric of Emma's singlet, was pressed into the taut muscle below the blonde's collar bone. She was close enough to smell the mixed blend of sweat and something sweet and spicy she could not place. With her arm firmly wedged into the valley between small breasts, she could feel each strained intake of breath. It felt good. To see the object she longed to unleash her anger out on, struggling to breathe under her force pleased the brunette immensely.

"Just be thankful you haven't seen the worst," Regina savagely snarled as her gaze finally came to rest on brilliant green eyes. In place of the anger she expected to see, the blonde looked like she wanted it, like she deserved to be winded and held down. Confused and enraged that Emma wasn't fighting back, Regina was at a loss for how to proceed. The strength of her grip and volume of her rage did not falter as she disappeared into thick, purple mist.

Reappearing in the familiar contrasting tones of her monochromatic office helped to ease Regina's tension slightly. Unclenching her fist, she headed to the bathroom. Exposing her hands and face to the cool water was a welcome relief. Now that the anger was subsiding, she felt drained. It was almost as if it took all her energy to pin Emma down when she acted on her impulse of fury. She washed longer than necessary, intent on washing her hands of Emma.

Freshly cleansed, the Mayor returned to her office. A list of calls to return and a stack of paperwork had been neatly placed by her secretary on the corner of her desk. There was no need to dwell further on the events of the morning. There was work to be done.

The day passed quickly as the brunette fell into her usual rhythm. She was grateful for the distraction of day to day tasks required to run the town. No matter the state of her private life, she always had Mayoral duties forcing her into keeping up appearances. With the day's work completed, Regina exhaled wearily and stood. Noticing a stray, neon yellow, sticky note peeking out from the completed paperwork, she reached out to pluck it from the white heap. The familiar scrawl of her secretary read:

Last minute addition to tomorrow's council meeting – Sheriff Swan.

Regina scrunched the small, brightly coloured note in her fist and threw it across the room. She watched it magically ignite and vanish in angry, yellow-blue flames before she too, vanished into thin air.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you all for your kind comments. I will take your suggestions into account and slowly begin to increase the length of the chapters. I struggled with the dialogue in this chapter. Any comments and tips you guys might have are very welcome._


	3. Please Mom

The newly reinstated Sheriff drove home from an uneventful day's work in a contemplative silence. She replayed her painful run in with Regina for the umpteenth time. How she had walked up to Regina with such a strong resolve to apologise and then done the exact opposite completely escaped her. The woman seemed to bring out a petulant quality in her. Although, the same could be said for Emma's effect on Regina, this time, the brunette's anger was justified. What perplexed Emma the most was why Regina had disappeared at the peak of her fury. One moment Emma was bracing for a well-deserved punch in the jaw and the next second she was alone, coughing and out of breath, in the insulated pocket of heavy forest.

Pulling up into the driveway, Emma pushed thoughts of the failed reconciliation away. She didn't want her son to pick up on her restlessness, especially since he was becoming increasingly more perceptive by the day. Not only was Henry extremely sensitive, he was also growing more mature. Henry's adamance that their new home be equidistant from the Charming-Snow apartment and his other mother's house spoke volumes about how far he had come in his regard for Regina. It was heart-warming to witness the transformation.

Eager to get inside, the blonde unfastened her seat belt and hopped out of the car in one swift motion. Her wince of pain was as audible as the rusty creak of the yellow Bug's door slamming shut. Her sternum and back still ached painfully. It had, after all, only been twelve hours since Regina's crushing weight had her restrained against rough bark. The blonde had yet to fully inspect the extent of the damage, but had no doubt that she would be bruised tomorrow.

A deliciously rich aroma assaulted Emma as she walked through the front door. Mouth already watering, she was led by her nose to the kitchen. A headphone-adorned Henry adorably bopped and swayed to music while he stirred a sloppy, chocolate mixture.

"Hey kid," Emma waved her hands in front of him.

"Oh, hi Mom, you're just in time," Henry looked up from the bowl with a broad smile, unabashed that Emma had caught him dance-cooking.

She leant forward over the counter, grabbed his head and planted a small kiss on his forehead. Emma wished that he could stay in this phase a little longer, between boy and teenager, without an ounce self-consciousness or embarrassment about affection. Taking a seat, she watched fondly, as he neatly poured the chocolaty mix evenly into ceramic moulds and placed them in a water filled tray. He bent to place them in the oven and returned with a large, golden topped pie. The boy moved about the kitchen smoothly, tea towel over one shoulder, stirring, tasting and adjusting a velvety gravy simmering on the stove and whipping cream into fluffy, soft peaks. He skilfully plated generous servings of the pie with a side of steamed, lightly seasoned green beans and drizzled steaming dark gravy in lazy patterns across the white plate.

Emma was very thankful Henry had picked up Regina's chef-like abilities, marvelling at his arrangement which transformed a humble slice of pie into an image from a magazine. When motivated Henry could create dishes that could rival professionals. Emma dug in to her slice of pie happily, too hungry to think about what intentions were hidden within the crunchy, buttery potato and soft, tender lamb. For dessert, Henry presented individual ramekins overflowing with dark soufflé dusted with icing sugar and served with vibrantly, red strawberries and a dollop of white, whipped cream. She could not hold back her curiosity any longer.

"Okay Henry. What do you want?," Emma finally asked, sliding her spoon into the solid soufflé shell to reveal the molten, gooey inside.

"What do you mean? What do I want?," Henry scoffed, faking mild offence, "Can't a son cook his mother Shepard's pie once in a while?"

"You made dessert too," Emma responded, sighing contently when she tasted the blend of acidic berry, cream and sweet, soft-solid chocolate.

"This dessert is the perfect accompaniment. You can't have a hearty pie without a warm, chocolate soufflé," Henry stated matter-of-factly.

"As delicious as the pie was and this dessert is, I can't help but think that they are both demanding something from me."

"Ok, you got me," Henry paused, formulating the right words, "I'm worried about her. I know when I'm around she tries really hard to stay positive for me but she's hurting. I've tried to cheer her up, but it's like even though she's there, she's not really there...you know what I mean. Isn't there something we can do?"

Emma groaned internally. _Of course this was about Regina. _The only other times Henry had gone all out to make a meal of this calibre was when he wanted to comfort her or convince her to do something she wasn't willing to do readily.

"Henry, I know you're worried about her, I am too, but it's not your job to cheer her up," Emma replied softly.

"But she's depressed. I've never seen her like this before," he admitted quietly. "Can't you do something?," he added pleadingly.

"I don't know what I can do kid. Even if she was open to support, I'm the last person she wants to see right now," the blonde touched her chest lightly, feeling the dull, aching flesh beneath her shirt. She wasn't worried about the council meeting tomorrow. It would be a formal setting with no opportunity for outbursts on both sides. To meet one-on-one however, was an encounter she probably wouldn't survive and one she would not be persuaded to undertake.

"Please Mom. You're the closest thing she has to a friend." Henry slipped a key across the table and proceeded to pull the most deadly expression in his arsenal.


	4. Piano Expression

_Recommended Listening: Claude Debussy : Clair de Lune, for Piano (Suite Bergamasque No. 3)_

* * *

Twenty minutes later Emma sat in her Bug outside 108 Mifflin Street silently congratulating her borderline teenage son for successfully pulling off puppy dog eyes. While she was trapped in his pleading gaze, Henry had hastily ushered her out the door. Disregarding Emma's incomprehensible utterances of protest, he wished her luck, shoved a glass container of warm pie into her hands and swiftly closed the door. The boy truly had the makings of a master manipulator. It would only be a matter of years before he was controlling her like one of his video game characters. Regina would never allow herself to be so easily influenced, she was sure if it.

Staring at the shadows cast across the moonlit white siding of the colonial mansion, Emma contemplated the act of idiocy she was about to attempt. Given that it was only early evening, she was slightly suspicious of the absence of light in the windows. Emma reluctantly walked up to the grand, pillar supported entrance. She pounded on the heavy white door with three drawn out knocks, listening intently for noise on the other side. She tried to imagine what Henry would say. He'd probably tell her to use to key and go fix this mess.

"Yes Emma, listen to the hormone addled brain of your son," she muttered crazily to herself. Sighing in defeat, she recovered a silvery key from the shallow pocket of her leather jacket.

After opening the door as quietly as humanly possible, she cautiously stepped into the foyer. She shivered. The silence was eerie. Moonlight streamed past open curtains, casting elongated shadows across the expanse of the first floor visible to her. Emma imagined, not for the first time, how Regina had lived alone in this enormous, empty mansion before Henry. Her boots echoed softly against the polished hardwood floors as she shifted to the base of the stairs. She craned her neck to inspect the upstairs. Noting no artificial light, Emma assumed Regina must be asleep. She was turning to leave when she heard it. Delicate music drifted down the staircase.

Curious, Emma followed the origin of the ominous nocturne, soundlessly climbing steps and passing rooms she never knew existed, until the music gradually gained clarity. The further she travelled down the long, dark, hallway, the cooler the air became. She came to a halt outside the last room. Although the door was left ajar, the angle only allowed her to see a book shelf as she squinted into the darkness. Holding her breath, she stepped inside just as the crescendo began.

Regina sat at a grand piano positioned in front of a large open window. Translucent curtains, full with the cool, evening air, billowed gently behind her like miniature sails. A number of small flames, which seemed to be suspended in mid-air above the piano, bathed the surrounding space in warm amber light. Regina's hair, her hunched shoulders and torso, all swayed lazily in unison as her thin fingers expertly navigated across ink and ivory coloured keys. Emma didn't know if it was the cold or the music that caused her skin to erupt in goosebumps while listening to the familiar arrangement.

The piece itself possessed a delicate and romantic nature, but the way in which Regina played was enchanting. Each note was laced with such a sense of melancholy, Emma's heart ached at the sorrowful expression. She stood transfixed, listening to the haunting notes reverberate off the walls of the small room. As the composition came to a close, Emma realised two things – her eyes were rapidly welling up and she was still holding her breath. On her inhale, the room was instantly flooded with fluorescent light, causing Emma to shield her eyes from the painful adjustment they were forced to make.

Just as quickly as the light appeared, it was replaced by darkness. Regina's conjured flash of brightness had aided her in identifying the blonde trespasser. Although the intrusion warranted more anger, she felt subdued. Sensing the heat from her throat extending towards her extremities, she attributed this sense of clam to the copious amount of cider she had consumed since arriving home.

"You have certainly elevated stalking to a new level Miss Swan," Regina's voice rang out in the darkness.

"Henry was worried about you. He gave me the key," Emma said, deciding to stick to the truth as she turned to wipe away a single tear on the verge of escaping from the corner of her eye.

If Regina wasn't already hot from the alcohol, the information that Henry was worried about her would have warmed her. Regina reignited the small, magical flames with a flick of her wrist. "My relationship with my son is none of your concern."

"Our son," Emma corrected. Although past experience had conditioned a fear response at the sight of flames wielded by the Mayor, Emma sensed that she would not be in any danger. Looking directly at Regina now, she was taken aback by her appearance. In the simple silk robe, without her heels and layers of clothes, she seemed so tiny. Her obvious weight loss and pale complexion highlighted high cheek bones and sunken eyes, rimmed with dark circles.

"In any case Sheriff," Regina said, emphasising the formal title, "I think we can both agree that breaking and entering is still breaking and entering, even when it's done with a key." Regina retrieved her empty glass from the top of the piano and proceeded to the table housing her collection of hard liquor, walking slowly to hide her unbalanced gait. "If I'm not mistaken, there is a council meeting tomorrow. Couldn't whatever this is…," Regina motioned towards Emma, "have waited until morning?"

Emma watched Regina cross the room, flock of flames trailing obediently behind her. "Will you listen to me tomorrow?"

A long silence followed as Regina filled her glass with golden brown spirit from a crystal decanter.

"What are you doing here Miss Swan?" Regina finally said before taking a prolonged sip of whiskey.

"I didn't know you played piano," said Emma casually, ignoring the question.

"Contrary to what you might believe Miss Swan, you don't know everything about me," Regina replied, strolling leisurely towards Emma.

"You know I didn't mean it like that, Regina. That was Debussy right?" Emma enquired, mildly pleased Regina had been distracted by her earlier question.

"I didn't know bail bonds person school included such a comprehensive education in the arts," Regina said, barely succeeding to hold back a smirk as she moved further into Emma's space. Regina wanted the Sheriff gone. Her first impulse was to fling her glass at the irritating blonde, but she doubted the object would find it's intended destination in her current incapacitated state. She was going to have to try a subtler approach at expelling Swan from her house.

"Hey, I can have an appreciation for the classical stuff," Emma replied feinting offence. "My Bug, for example, is a classic." Emma was enjoying the effect alcohol was having on bringing out the regular, witty Regina. However, she was also growing uneasy about Regina's shrinking physical proximity in relation to herself. The Mayor was an arm's length away from her and clearer than ever. Despite Regina's haggard appearance, she still looked remarkably beautiful.

Regina scoffed at Emma's retort, advancing further forward, "As much as I would love to educate you on what constitutes -"

"Look Regina," Emma said loudly, interrupting Regina. The brunette had crossed the bounds of what she deemed to be the appropriate amount of personal space. She stepped backwards in order to put some distance between them. "I came because Henry was worried about you. Also, I wanted to give you some…" Emma lost her train of thought when she caught the smell of alcohol on Regina's breath.

"Give me some?" Regina questioned with an inquisitive raise of her eyebrow. She inched forward to restore the lost closeness, grinning broadly. Emma looked like a deer in headlights.

"Pie," Emma blurted out, backing out of the room, "I left the pie in the car."

"Miss Swan, I don't want your pie."

"Henry made it. Just give me a sec," called Emma from the hallway, "I'll go get it."

Regina listened to Emma's oaf-like footsteps thundering down her pristinely maintained stairs. She tried her best to follow Emma as quickly as she could, but the last glass of whiskey had been the tipping point between mildly and severely impaired movement. She managed to stagger the length of the hallway and brace herself against the handrails of the staircase in just enough time. She positioned herself in the doorway just as the Sheriff was about to cross the threshold.

Emma stopped abruptly when her entrance inside had been blocked.

Regina pried the container from Emma's grasp. "Sheriff, you have a stain," Regina said, looking down at Emma's shirt with a displeased expression.

Emma glanced downwards, inspecting her grey shirt, "There's no - "

Regina didn't hear the rest of the sentence over the sound of the door slamming shut. "Well that was just too easy," she laughed to herself as she opened the container, inhaling the delicious aroma wafting from its contents.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for your helpful suggestions last chapter._


	5. Council Meeting

_A/N: Aww, you guys! Thank-you for the your lovely reviews. The piano scene was one of the first snippets written._

* * *

Regina had been awake for the better part of an hour. The harsh morning light had assaulted her sensitive eyes long before her alarm sounded. Regina sluggishly outstretched her arm to silence the screeching electronic beeps. She gave credit to alcohol for lulling her into a dreamless sleep – an occurrence which had become a rarity of late. The consequences of her many nightcaps however, were made apparent when sitting upright caused her head throb painfully. She rubbed her temples, reflecting upon when it had become an internal battle to get out of bed.

Regina wanted nothing more than to rid herself of the clouds of gloom that shadowed her thoughts, but was simultaneously devoid any motivation to do so. She knew she need to move but every muscle ached with lethargy. The days that Henry stayed over were easier. The routine and responsibility that came with his presence did not allow for alcohol fuelled, self-pitying indulgences. She vaguely remembered Emma's meddlesome intrusion from the previous night. She more vividly recalled the blonde's expression of Henry's concern for her. Just thinking of Henry gave Regina the energy to haul her exhausted limbs out of her warm, blanket cocoon and on to the chilly, wooden floor beneath her.

It took longer than usual for Regina to get ready. If she were well, erasing the effects of a night of heavy drinking would be easy. Unfortunately for her, even small amounts of magic required a substantial amount of exertion in her post-inebriated condition. Both Regina's state of mind and physical health were at an all-time low, deteriorating incrementally each day. Regina was aware of the change, the slowness of mind affecting her decision making and the dramatic weight loss, most noticeable each time she slipped into one of her dresses.

Despite a lack of appetite, Regina knew she needed to eat something. She opened her refrigerator and scanned the predominantly barren glass shelves for breakfast options. Henry's pie stood out as the only edible food source among the expired produce. Regina forced herself to eat, smiling softy when she tasted the delicate balance of flavours contained in her first mouthful. Henry had improved upon her recipe.

While Regina drove to her office she formulated a plan. Firstly, she would need to arrange for the food to be re-stocked in preparation for Henry's impending stay. Secondly, when he arrived, she would talk to him about his concerns. The last thing she wanted was to upset him, especially when it was within her control to soothe his worry. Finally, she predicted that reassuring Henry would also reduce any future interactions with Emma. Last night was evidence that Henry could persuade Emma to bend to his wishes. Although avoiding the Sheriff in professional settings would prove to be a much harder task than social evasion, it would not be impossible.

With a rough strategy in place, Regina felt more in control as she parked in the reserved spot outside the Town Hall. Once inside, Regina walked confidently past her secretary and into the meeting room. She sat in her normal seat, at the head of a long, rectangular mahogany table. A steaming cup of black coffee and the meeting agenda lay waiting for her. Regina busied herself with reading as a steady flow of lively, talkative attendees trickled into the room. Regina finally looked up from reviewing the page when the growing chatter around her suddenly ceased.

The occupants in the room turned their attention towards the main door which closed with a soft mechanical click. Emma stood awkwardly at the entrance, her gaze locked onto Regina's from across the room. The spectators of the intense staring match collectively held their breaths, glancing quickly from one woman to the other, trying to gauge the level of tension between the two.

"Nice of you to join us Sheriff Swan," Regina said, cutting through the stiff silence, "Take a seat, I was just about to start."

Emma ignored Regina's teacher-like sarcasm and complied with the command, moving towards the large table as several sets of eyes tracked her path. Emma purposely choose to occupy the seat at opposing head of the table. Once she was seated, Regina immediately began, opening with a brief welcome before asking her secretary to recite the Minutes from the previous meeting.

During the course of the following hour, Emma made several attempts at engaging Regina's attention, all of which had failed. The Mayor's skills of evasion were remarkable. She was doing a spectacularly good job of avoiding eye contact, despite Emma being in the centre of her field of vision. Regina moved through the agenda swiftly, addressing and resolving each new item faster than its predecessor. Emma glanced down at her copy of the agenda, wondering how much longer she would have to endure Leroy's not-so-subtle rant about nuisance dogs while he eyed Archie angrily out of the corner of his eye. Emma slowly perused the page, mental checking off all the mundane issues they had already covered.

So far, issues about housing allocation for a few newer residents, Emma's suggestion for more police department resources, a presentation from the charity ball committee and a couple of petitions had been heard. Only one item remained. Reading the short dot point caused Emma's brow to furrow in confusion. She re-read it - Precautionary measures against magical intruders.

"Once again Leroy, your complaint will be noted. And once again, dog owners will be reminded of the acceptable amount of barking permitted," Regina concluded quickly, cutting the outraged man off mid-sentence, "Moving on now. In relation to our discussion last week, I've posted an emergency protocol for residents to follow in the event of a magical -"

"Hang on Regina, not everyone agreed on all of those protocols," David interjected.

"Yeah, I didn't agree!" Leroy spouted in support.

"Me too," called out a couple of voices.

To Regina's great displeasure, Charming had become a permanent fixture at meetings since the addition of the magical focus. What qualified the glorified Shepard to handout advice on magical warfare was beyond her. Regina looked around at the absurd ensemble of people, weighing her chances of success in convincing them of her plan which aimed to minimise injury and loss of life. In place of Snow's absence, several of her shorter, more tiresome companions were in attendance. Without Gold present to side with her, Regina concluded that talking rationally to Charming and his idiotic band of worshippers would be pointless.

"Alright Charming, why don't you and your panel of experts go ahead and discuss your points of contention," Regina said wearily.

Regina sighed to herself as Charming eagerly assumed the position of directing discussion. Realistically, the majority of residents would be helpless against an attack, even by the most mediocre of magical beings. Without someone possessing magic, like Gold or, dare she say it, Emma, to defend them, Storybrooke citizens would probably melt like delicate snowflakes under a scorching sun in the face of a formidable enemy.

"Regina, what do you think?" Emma's voice interrupted Regina's imagined daydream of Charming leading his blind, loyal groupies to their inevitable deaths.

"Well, I think Charming has said it all. Shall we conclude?" Regina said, politely addressing David and paying no attention to Emma.

"Umm, yes I think we're done for today," Charming agreed.

Regina was the first to stand, hastily exiting the room as chatter around her started to build. No doubt, Emma would be hot on her heels. She was halfway down the hallway when a low voice called her name.

"Regina"

Emma heard the name she intended to shout come from behind her. Both women turned to locate the source, only to find Robin half-walking, half-sprinting, towards them.


	6. Snow and Ice

The air surrounding Emma was filled with faint hints of cologne and cedar as Robin strode purposefully past her. Emma was quick to note the slight discomfort in Regina's expression before it hardened as Robin approached. Had she wished it, Regina could have easily disappeared, yet she remained stationary, her arms protectively crossed in front of her. Emma watched the ensuing interaction with intense interest, too far away to hear the ensuing conversation.

It wasn't long before Regina's steely, impersonal mask shattered, revealing the real woman beneath. Emma felt her ears grow hot at the sight. What she had repeatedly attempted to do over the last week, took Robin a matter of seconds to accomplish. To his credit, Robin seemed visibly distraught. Nevertheless, observing the visceral effect Robin's emotions had on Regina astonished Emma. Regina's face transformed to mirror his. The lines around her forehead were carved with concern.

Emma felt a firm tug on her jacket.

"Emma!" David said exasperatedly.

"What?" Emma snapped more harshly than she intended.

"I called your name a few times already," David said, following her gaze, "Did Robin tell you already?"

"Tell me what?" Emma said distractedly. She peered sideways, catching a glimpse of Regina placing a hand on Robin's shoulder. She was comforting him.

"About the ice and his wife," said Leroy, who had appeared at David's side.

"His wife slipped on ice?" Emma said, logically trying to connect the dots. "It's not cold enough for ice."

"No, his wife collapsed and the town is surrounded by ice," David replied

"One of Robin's men was walking the perimeter when it appeared," Leroy explained.

"Great, just when I thought we wouldn't have to use that damn protocol for at least a few months," Emma complained under her breath. "Well, this can't be a coincidence."

"I agree," said Regina, approaching the trio with Robin in tow. "I'm going to check on Henry and then assess Marian's condition."

David nodded. "Emma and I will go to the border."

"Hang on, are you both really going to let Regina waltz out of here?" Leroy said, throwing his arms up incredulously. "This is obviously her handiwork."

Robin stole the words Emma planned to speak right from the tip of her tongue.

"Regina would never!" Robin said fiercely, stepping threateningly over the smaller man.

Regina gently wrapped a hand around Robin's arm, pulling him back to her. Although she was more than capable of defending herself, Regina couldn't help but find Robin's protectiveness endearing.

"Come on! Doesn't anybody find this suspicious?" began Leroy contentiously, looking to Emma and David for support. "Who else has the most to gain from Marian's- "

"Your vacuity continues to astound me," Regina icily cut in, "We don't have time for this nonsense."

"Regina's right Leroy, you're jumping to conclusions," Emma said calmly, "We can't waste time arguing."

"We're going," Regina announced, interlacing her arm with Robin's. "By the way," she added as lavender wisps of cloud formed at their feet, "I'm betting this mess is a result of your precious Saviour's recent time travel adventure."

Leroy was rendered temporarily mute as the former couple evaporated from sight.

After instructing Leroy to spread the word, a task that he was well versed in and also loved to do, Emma and David raced the cruiser to the town border and the reported ice wall. The structure was enormous; it was visible miles before they reached the boundary.

The sight was magnificently surreal. Tall, solid, layers of ice loomed over Emma and David, sparkling gloriously under the beating rays of sunshine.

"What if she's right? What if I caused this?" Emma said worriedly to David.

"We can't know for sure," David replied reassuringly, "Let's not worry yet. So far, it just looks like a great hunk of ice."

"Magical ice," Emma corrected. She reached out and slid her finger along the cool condensation coating the wall.

"Emma, don't touch it!" scolded David, swatting her wrist away from the ice.

"What. Why?"

"You said it yourself – its magic," David replied.

"What's the point of us being here if we're not going to investigate?" asked Emma.

David considered her question thoughtfully.

"Look, there's an opening over there. Let's go," said Emma.

"Wait a minute. Before we potentially get sucked into this thing, can we at least see how far extends?" David said, trying to form a compromise.

Emma cast her gaze upwards and across the monolithic structure. "Dad, you can't be serious! If you're suggesting we walk the perimeter then go ahead without me."

David didn't reply. His eyebrows raised slightly before his face broke into a bright, lopsided smile.

"What? Do you have an idea?"

"No, it's nothing," he said bashfully, a blush tinting his cheeks, "It's just that you called me Dad."

Emma smiled shyly. She lifted her hands to the back of her neck and scratched lightly- a mannerism that only appeared when she was self-conscious. "Okay, I'm going in here now. Are you coming?"

David chuckled at her response. "You really are your mother's daughter."

* * *

Emma arrived at Regina's street around dusk. She stepped out of her Bug and paused to admire the dull pinks and purples colouring the horizon. Further up, a handful of stars speckled the darkening sky. After an action-packed day, Emma wished for an ordinary evening. Today she had been encased in an ice wall, promised to find the sister of the person who encased her in the wall. She had also chased an ex-member of Robin's crew around the forest and briefly out magiced a mysterious ice cream store owner. Yesterday, when her biggest dangers were paper cuts, already seemed an age away.

Emma strolled down the path lined with dark masses of well-kept hedges and fragrant roses. Regina and Robin stood outside the front door, their figures backlit by the fluorescent glow emanating from inside. The pair were talking in hushed tones, totally oblivious to Emma's nearing presence. Seeing them together reminded Emma of the night she walked into the diner with Marian. The fresh memory filled her with a sense of foreboding. An uncomfortable lump formed in her throat when Robin extended his arms and Regina stepped into them without hesitation. Regina's eyes closed for a moment as he hugged her.

The scene was both absurd and completely natural. She couldn't recall a time where Regina had hugged anyone other than Henry. With her head rested to the side against Robin's chest, Regina looked content. Emma felt extremely uneasy encroaching upon their space. She was too close not to say anything, so she cleared her throat in the way a principal might do to demand attention. If either party were startled by the abrupt noise, they did not display it. Ultimately, the sound had its desired effect and resulted in a slow decoupling.

"Good evening Emma," Robin acknowledged Emma with a nod which she reciprocated.

"I should be going now. Call me with an update?" Robin said to Regina.

"Of course," Regina replied solemnly.

"Roland," Robin called inside, leaning against the frame of the door. Within seconds, the sound of tiny footsteps resounded from inside and Robin's arms were filled with a miniature version of himself.

"Where's Mommy?" Roland asked innocently.

"Your mother is feeling unwell son. She's going to stay with Regina," Robin answered.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of her," Regina said, cupping the boy's cheek fondly.

"Okay, Bye Regina." Rowan extended his small chubby hand to wave.

"Bye."

Robin exchanged a wordless goodbye with Regina and nodded in Emma's direction before he turned and headed toward the street.

Regina turned to Emma expectantly. Emma intended to inform Regina about Elsa and her quest to find Anna and the encounter with the Snow Queen. Instead, she found herself expressing the thought that had plagued her since the end of the council meeting.

"You looked through me.," Emma blurted out.

"Excuse me?" said Regina.

"At the meeting this morning. You looked straight through me, never addressed me."

"Yes and if it were an option, I would do the same now," Regina stated bluntly. "But I expect you're here to update me on the situation, although I don't see why this couldn't have been done over the phone."

Emma quashed her emotions to recount the events of the day as Regina listened in stoic silence. "So, do you know this Sundae Snow Queen?"

"Because all evil people know each other?" Regina spat.

"Mooooom, dinner's ready," Henry's sing-song voice bellowed from within the house.

"Okay Henry. Coming," Regina called back.

"Regina, I meant have you heard of her?" Emma continued, correcting herself.

"Don't look at me Saviour. I think its Gold's turn to have an estranged relative come to kill us. Did you consult him?"

"Yeah, that's how David and I located her," Emma said.

"Well, you're lucky she vanished. It's her magic keeping Marian unconscious. I'm still researching ways to revive her."

"Did Robin try…," Emma hesitated, not wanting to say the words.

"Kissing her? Yes," Regina replied curtly, an unreadable expression plastered over her face.

Emma was slow to piece together to consequences of the information Regina had divulged, but when she finally did, she was racked with gut-wrenching guilt. If Robin's kiss didn't wake his wife, then the rumours were true. Robin wasn't just the person that triggered dazed smiles and drew out Regina's genuine self. Robin was Regina's true love.

"Swan? Is that you?" Emma recognised the familiar accented voice emerging from behind her.

"I see your boyfriend is here to escort you home," Regina stated as she stepped into the foyer, ""And he has impeccable timing."

For the second night in a row, Emma was left standing on the wrong side of Regina's locked door.

Hook reached Emma's side early enough to detect her frustration and disappointment. He slung his arm around her shoulders. "At least she didn't slam it love," he said supportively.

* * *

_A/N: Thank-you everyone for your wonderful comments. I really enjoy reading all the different opinions about the characters._


	7. Darkness

_Kill her_. The tantalizing thought sprang free from Regina's state of half sleep and wake, when unravelling awareness began to drown in the hostile depths of vengeful unconsciousness. Evolved from a passing inner musing during innocent dinner conversation, it surfaced, spluttering from her psyche, jolting her awake. _Frame her. _The plan, in all its glorious simplicity, was too alluring to deny.

Regina trod lightly on glossy floors, wary of her teenage light sleeper down the hall. Lighting her path with short rows of magically produced flames, she proceeded downstairs to the study, collecting a pair of scissors from the kitchen along the way. Standing over Marian's petrified form, Regina held the sharp stainless steel blades open between a steady finger and thumb. The fingers of her other hand made faint contact with frozen skin before weaving into the woman's dark hair. She located the noticeable white streak and snipped.

Undoing the Snow Queen's curse had proved to be difficult task, but transforming magic to stage a murder was child's play. Regina hastily flicked through an ancient book in search of the correct spell, unable to supress the malicious smile that rose from within as she forcefully ripped the page from the threads that bound it. During Regina's most trying times, the darkness that lurked in her soul had always come to her aid. It whispered seductively, beckoning her to jump off the edge sanity and bathe in its numbing waters. It offered permanence and control no other relationship had provided. Her darkness had been starved for so long, its pull was more magnetic than ever. She intended to satisfy it tonight. Armed with freshly shorn locks and spell page in hand, Regina watched her surroundings dissipate as purple plume enveloped her.

Regina's bare toes made contact with frigid tile as an unfamiliar kitchen materialised before her. The muffled hum of the refrigerator was the only sound to be heard while she padded leisurely through the house in pursuit of her target. Regina inspected the home, noting the high ceilings which added a spacious quality to its modest size. She couldn't help but make comparisons to Snow's drab apartment. Adorned with trinkets and crocheted monstrosities, the Charming residence radiated a type of homey warmth that made her nauseous. This house was different. The décor held a clean and understated elegance. A few abstract artworks and rock music posters hung on white walls. Leafy potted plants lined wide windows and glass shelves housed various vintage cameras and records. Although Regina was unable to ascertain the exact colour scheme under the moonlight, she envisaged it to be bright and inviting.

In contrast to the rest of the house, the master bedroom was minimalist, but not in the stylistic sense. The room was completely devoid of personality - even Regina's mausoleum displayed more character. The only furnishings were a double bed and two stacked archive boxes which functioned as a makeshift bedside table. Gentle snoring stemming from a quilted mass atop the bed drew her attention back to the mission at hand. Regina stalked closer, circling unsuspecting prey lying soundly on her stomach. This part of the hunt had always been the most electrifying. Calculating the correct angle of attack, Regina's heart pounded like a drum in her chest, heightening all her senses.

She scanned over long, limp limbs, haphazardly extended outwards from underneath a duvet, and up long waves of thick, blonde hair. Finally, her gaze came to rest on a slumbering face, the unique combination of Snow and Charming's features. Suspecting that Swan was a heavy sleeper, Regina decided to risk detection and perched herself delicately on the edge of the bed in line with a tank top clad torso. As she anticipated, her intended victim lay undisturbed. In a few short minutes Swan would be dead and by morning, her body discovered. Her death would be ruled a homicide, a tragic slaughter by a maniacal Snow Queen.

Regina unfolded the page of rough, yellowed parchment and stretched to place it on the bedside box-table. Her movement was uncharacteristically clumsy. She knocked a pair of thick, black rimmed glasses. Her reflexes were too slow, the glasses landed on the floor with a dull thud. The snoring beside her stopped. Regina froze, not even daring to inhale while she listened for movement. She felt beads of sweat gathering at her lower back, soaking into her silk pyjamas. It seemed like an eternity before the rhythmic breathing beside her resumed. Regina relaxed, bending slowly to retrieve the glasses and return them to their original place. In doing so, she discovered the only personal item in the room – a plain frame displaying a photo of Henry and Emma sporting identical ear-to-ear grins.

A lifetime ago, Regina wouldn't have given a second thought in ending Swan's life. She was well acquainted with the art of the kill. It came to her so naturally – a flick of the wrist, an extermination order issued to a guard or, if she was feeling creative, a slow and torturous plot involving the blackmail of loved ones. Regina reached forward, her hand trembling, to place the bundle of white hairs on the middle of Emma's upper back. She noticed a swatch of dark discolouration just below Emma's shoulder, highly contrasted from the pale skin. Careful not to wake Emma, she pushed the thin cotton aside to reveal more skin. Emma's back bore a large, splotchy bruise, evidence of Regina's wrath from their forest encounter.

Running her fingertips lightly over Emma's injured back, Regina shut her eyes and exhaled deeply. She couldn't do it. Perhaps it was the reminder of Henry's beaming face or her growing consciousness that eclipsed the darkness that lurked within. Resting her whole hand on Emma, Regina concentrated, allowing warm healing magic to flow from her palms. She opened her eyes to survey her work. The angry black-red pigmentation had disappeared, leaving no trace it was ever there. Emma mumbled something incoherent before twisting her body to lay on one side. Regina lent over her form to collect the fallen wisps of Marian's cursed locks, breathing in the unique blend of spicy sweetness. She didn't stay long enough to identify the scent. She faded into the darkness with a little regret and a spark of accomplishment. She had fought her murderous impulse tonight and won.

Returning to sleep seemed like a futile endeavour after attempted murder. Since it was a little after dawn, Regina decided to prepare breakfast in hopes of falling into routine. Going through the motions of cooking a meal was one of the very few activities that effectively separated Regina from thought. Ordinary actions were her form of meditation. She watched the white flour fall through the sieve and settle in a powdery mountain in the bowl. She felt the smooth texture of eggshell in her hand as it cracked open. She savoured the mild scent of fresh apple as she sliced into its core. Within minutes, Regina was pouring thin, liquidy batter onto a hot, flat pan. Not long after, a colourful assortment of fillings lay on the table, including sliced ham and cheese for Henry and sautéed apples for her. As if on cue, Regina heard familiar footsteps descend the staircase. She had missed the sounds of those footsteps.

"Morning," Henry yawned loudly.

"Good morning," Regina beamed, wondering when his yawns had dropped to such a low register. Henry's dark hair stood up in adorable tufts, ruffled from sleep. He was up earlier than usual. If the commotion in the kitchen caused him to wake, he made no mention of it. He walked over and hugged her tightly. Regina held him happily, stroking the back of his head, smoothing his hair.

"Crêpes," he stated drowsily, breaking the hug to stretch his arm above his head.

"Yes, your favourite."

"Awesome." Henry dropped down onto the closest chair and began to eat. His monosyllabic grunts soon grew into lively chatter with every crêpe he devoured. Regina sat beside him, moving her food around the plate, perfectly content in listening to his theories about the Snow Queen and stories about his time in New York.

"Henry, there's something I need to talk to you about," Regina started.

"Am I in trouble?" Henry questioned, "Because you're using your you're-in-trouble voice."

"No Henry, I just wanted to talk to you about giving Emma the key."

Henry set his utensils down. "Are you mad?"

"Of course not sweetheart, I know you did it out of concern for me."

"Yeah, I just thought that Emma could…you know, help."

"I realise that I've not been in the best condition of late, but you have to give me some time."

Henry placed a warm hand on hers and squeezed. "Okay, I just want you to be happy"

Regina's heart soared at his words. She fought back the tears that began to well on the lower borders of her eyes and returned his sentiment with a squeeze of her own.

Henry resumed eating, his pace unaltered by conversation. "Anyway, I've been thinking about a way for you to get your happy ending."

Regina didn't want to disappoint him by saying she had given up on the myth of happily ever afters long ago. "And?"

"Well, it begins with the author of the storybook."

* * *

"Please tell me you have pancakes!" Emma eagerly called out as she entered her parents' apartment. Despite her running about the day before, Emma had woken quite refreshed. To her surprise, the bruises on her back had disappeared. She had decided to visit her parent's place to avoid eating cereal alone. She had grown so accustom having Henry in the house, it was uncomfortably quiet in his absence.

"Well hello to you too," David teased from the kitchen, flipping a pancake up.

"Emma, I didn't know you were stopping by this early," Mary Margret's voice floated across the small space from the bedroom.

"I'm sorry, I should have called before coming. I did wake him?" Emma asked in concern, embarrassed at her lack of forethought. Her parents' had their own life now.

Mary Margret emerged with a lively Neal in her arms. "No, it's fine. He just woke up."

Emma played with the baby's hands, smiling fondly over him when he closed a fist around her index finger. "Hey little brother," she greeted him in a soft, high pitched voice. She stuck her tongue out at him, amused when he imitated her.

"Come sit down," David gestured to the bench, placing a plate of steaming stacked pancakes in the centre.

Emma didn't need to be told twice. She hurried over, eagerly serving herself a personal stack. "Where's Elsa?" Emma asked, her voice muffled by a mouthful of syrup drenched pancake.

Mary Margret set Neal down on a thin blanket on the floor. "Hopefully getting some sleep – the poor thing was up most of the night looking through town records. Why did you give her a box to take?"

Emma guzzled a glass of orange juice before replying. "I just thought she might recognise someone or something since she has no memories."

Mary Margret carefully eyed Emma's alarming rate of food consumption. "Emma, slow down. I don't think I saw you chew that last bite."

"I eat fast, can't help it," Emma shrugged and continued to shovel pancake into her mouth.

"Emma, thank goodness you're here," Elsa said, appearing from upstairs, the short train of her sapphire dress dragging behind her. She waved a photo in front of her face. "Have you seen this?"

Elsa passed the photo for closer inspection. It was her and the Snow Queen/ Sundae shop owner.

"I thought you said you didn't know her?" Elsa asked.

"I don't, but I think I know someone who might."

A part of Emma was slightly grateful, she had an excuse to see Regina again.

* * *

After a productive few hours at the office, Regina had retired to her grey stone walled mausoleum for a few hours of research before Henry arrived home. Her son had grown so much in the year he was away. She didn't want to waste another moment too involved in her own misery to miss any more. It was time to move on and, as much as she loathed the idea, change would beginning with unfreezing Marian.

Regina decided to locate the mysterious snow sorcerer before Marian died on her watch. She retrieved the small bundle of cursed hairs from her blazer pocket.

The click of approaching boots echoed loudly in the cold silence. Regina was quick enough to stuff the hairs back into her pocket and round the corner to startle her unwelcome visitor.


	8. Make Up

"For a former fairy your footsteps have quite a brutish tone to them," Regina physically followed her insult, emerging from behind a short row of ancient texts, stopping short of a collision with the tiny woman.

"Mother of Faes!" the wide eyed fairy exclaimed, clutching a hand to her chest, "You scared me Gina!"

"I can't imagine why – this is _my_ mausoleum."

"That's debatable," Tink muttered under her breath.

Regina chose to ignore the remark, crossing her arm in front of her. "Has the whole town developed an aversion to calling ahead?"

"I called, but I guess you don't get reception down here." Tink looked around, her eyes gradually adjusting to dimly lit space. "I just wanted to check in."

"Marian is doing quite well for a frozen corpse," Regina sounded resigned.

"No Gina, I meant you," Tink said with genuine concern.

"I'm fine," Regina responded automatically.

Tink knew Regina well enough to know that fine translated to tread with caution. The fact that she hadn't been kicked her out yet was a good sign. "You're looking well Gina."

The lie was well intentioned and Regina was grateful for it. "T please, you and I both know I look terrible."

Tink breathed an internal sigh of relief at Regina's small smirk and walked closer. "If it makes you feel any better, he's not looking too flash either. I saw him the other day and the bloke looks-"

"Ruggedly handsome," Regina suggested with a resigned sigh as she dropped down to sit on a cold, stone bench. It had only been the previous evening she had seen him, felt the warmth of his arms about her but it already seemed like so long ago. She really needed to establish some boundaries.

"I was going to say completely devastated, clothes all dishevelled, bags under his eyes – the works."

"Don't even try. I saw him last night," Regina said.

"Last night?" Tink probed with an inquisitively raised brow.

"To see Marian," Regina said flatly.

"Oh." Tink looked at her friend and was reminded of the first time they met. Although Regina would never acknowledge the fact, she truly wore her emotions close to the surface. With the exception of a few extra lines etched upon her face, the young woman in the Enchanted Forest and the woman before her were identical; both seemingly trapped in state of hopeless stagnation. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Breakfast," Regina answered truthfully.

"Good, I came prepared," Tink announced. The fairy opened her small leather messenger bag to reveal a paper bag stamped with Granny's logo. "It's chilly down here, let's go outside."

Tink offered her open hand and Regina accepted without protest, allowing herself to be pulled up onto her feet.

* * *

Emma and Elsa both felt the struggle of the Bug's engine on the off-road track as it shuddered violently beneath their feet. The car finally reached the cemetery's biggest monument, groaning to a screeching stop on the crunchy, gravelly dirt below.

"This is a remarkable invention," Elsa marveled, touching the dashboard inquisitively. "I can't help but think a horse would've been faster."

"That's because you haven't been over 50 yet," Emma chuckled. "Are you okay to wait here? I won't take long."

"You don't want me to come inside?"

"Regina doesn't even want see me, so I think bringing a guest would be overkill," Emma reasoned, "Plus, it's really creepy in there. You won't be missing much."

"Okay, I guess that's best." Elsa agreed.

Emma exited the car and rounded the corner to the entrance of the tomb. She knew Regina had to be inside because the tall, rust coloured double doors were opened slightly. Also, Henry had guessed his mother's location earlier in the afternoon after they had checked the Town Hall and Regina's house. Emma pushed both doors further open and stepped inside, immediately enveloped by a bitter, cold blackness.

Regina and Tink were blinded by the sudden influx of light that pierced their corneas. The physical clash that proceed however, was less painful. Regina felt the impact of a body crash into her and stumbled sideways, careering into Tink, who completely lost her balance and toppled to the ground.

Emma gripped onto the nearest object as she steadied herself. "Oh crap, Regina?" Emma questioned, squinting into the darkness.

"Yes, that's my lapel you're groping," Regina growled lowly with undertones of irritation and amusement.

Emma registered the soft swell of Regina's chest beneath her clenched fingers and immediately recoiled. Fortunately the wave of hot embarrassment that flooded her cheeks and ears wasn't visible in the darkened crypt. "Sorry, are you okay?"

Regina pushed past the shadowy outline of Emma's figure and walked outside. "Tell me Miss Swan, how did you find me? I specifically asked my secretary not to disclose my whereabouts - especially to you."

Emma followed Regina into the light. "I like to think that finding you is one of my more Charming qualities," Emma quipped cleverly, unable to resist the word play. She soon regretted the remark however, noting the brunette's complete lack of amusement.

"Well, don't mind me you guys, I'm fine," Tink's sarcastic voice echoed from inside before she emerged, brushing the dust from her knees.

"Tink, what are you doing here?" Emma asked in mild surprise. During the past week, the only people she had seen talk to Regina outside her capacity as Mayor were Henry and Robin.

Tink drew out a crumpled paper package from her bag. "I came to see Regina, we were just about to have lunch."

"No need to look so confused Miss Swan, I have other friends you know," Regina replied hastily, "Now, what do you want?"

Emma couldn't help but grin at Regina's implication. _Other friends._

"Well Swan?" Regina said impatiently.

"Oh yeah, Elsa found this." Emma dug into her jacket and thrust a photo in front of Regina's face. "This is me and the Snow Queen."

Regina snatched the photo from Emma's grasp. "Yes, I can see that. And you have no memory of this encounter?"

"None."

"And where is Elsa now?"

"She's in the…" Emma turned towards her Bug, scanning the now empty passenger seat. "She was there a second ago."

Regina rolled her eyes dramatically. "Split up, she can't have wandered too far."

* * *

Emma had an uneasy feeling in her gut. Something felt off about Regina so she had tailed her. Following the brunette though the leafy scrub without detection had been quite effortful, mostly because the woman powered through the forest like a bloodhound on Ritalin. Regina hadn't looked around at her surroundings or even called out Elsa's name. Emma thought she was doing a pretty good job at shadowing until Regina halted abruptly and spun towards her direction.

"I believe my instructions were quite clear Miss Swan," Regina started calmly.

"And I would've followed them if you didn't already know where to find Elsa."

"I don't know what you mean," Regina said blankly.

Emma couldn't tell what Regina was thinking under her mask of indifference but she absolutely knew she was lying. "Well, you seem like you already know where you're going."

Regina let out a small huff, turned on her heel and resumed walking. If there was one quality Emma and Henry shared the most, it was relentless persistency. "You may follow. Just don't ask any questions," she called over her shoulder.

The afternoon light began to lose its intensity as they hiked in silence through the thickening evergreens.

"Regina, about the other night..."

"This better not be a question," Regina interjected.

"No, last night, what you said about Robin. I didn't realise he was…"

"What?" Regina snapped, feeling the irrational angry bubbling within. She knew what Emma was going to say and raised her eyebrow, daring the other woman to pull the trigger.

"I didn't realise he was your true love." Emma said finally.

"Oh? And if you had known you would've done differently?" Regina said raising her voice slightly. "Of course not, you're the Savior."

Emma cringed at the title. "Look, I don't want to argue about hypotheticals. I'll admit it, I failed."

"Spectacularly," Regina added.

"Monumentally," Emma agreed, "and I get it if you feel like killing me right now. You can blame me and shove me against trees all you want but you have to know I'm not going anywhere."

Regina focused on the emerald eyes, searching desperately for a selfish motivation behind them. Instead, she only found warmth and sincerity and it made her sick. The bundle of Marian's hairs suddenly felt like they were burning a hole in her trouser pockets.

"I couldn't kill you," Regina said softly, although it was more an admission to herself. _If only she knew how close she had come._

"Okay," Emma said with the smallest of smiles.

* * *

The forest was only just beginning to succumb to nightfall when Regina and Emma trudged back to the cemetery with Tink and a newly rescued Elsa in tow.

"I can't believe she got away." Emma exclaimed in frustration.

"I can't believe I got knocked out by a samurai made of icicles," Tink said wearily, touching her fingers to the angry red welt sprouting from her temple.

"Let me take a look at that." Regina said to Tink, leaning closer to inspect the injury.

Regina hovered her hand directly over the fairy's forehead. Emma watched in fascination as the protrusion retracted and then disappeared completely, all within a matter of seconds. She touched her sternum absently. She never thought to question whether the disappearance of her own bruises could be attributed to magical intervention.

"Thanks." Tink smiled up at her friend before retrieving flattened sandwich from her bag and passing it to her. "So much for our picnic, huh."

"Maybe another time." Regina accepted the sandwich gratefully and unwrapped it straight away. Who knew all it took to induce an appetite was a couple of hours of walking and some light duelling. She took her first bite, her teeth sinking easily into the slightly soggy roast pumpkin sandwich, and chewed slowly. As they walked, she sensed Emma's gaze flicker sporadically to the bread from the corner for her eye. She unwrapped the other half of the sandwich and held it out. "Take it before I change my mind."

Emma held her hands up. "It's okay, I'm not that hungry." As if on cue, an uncontrollably long and embarrassingly audible rumble erupted from her stomach.

Tink and Elsa instantly began to chuckle. "Your stomach seems to think otherwise," Regina teased, offering the sandwich once more.

Emma reached out to grasp the half from Regina's hands, only to find it being pulled away at the last second. Regina's playful movement succeeded in doubling the laughter behind them. "Haha, very funny Regina."

Emma held out a hand patiently and Regina finally released the sandwich into the open palm. "Sorry, it's just too fun to tease you," the brunette stated with a hint of a grin.

Tink watched the interaction between the Savior and former Evil Queen play out in front of her with intrigue. Everyone knew that Emma had been trying to reconcile with Regina for a while now and, to the best of her knowledge, they hadn't made up. Until now. She didn't know whether she was witnessing a lighthearted rivalry or a renewed friendship, but, if she squinted just right, it almost looked like flirtation.

* * *

Regina excused herself from the group when they neared the bright yellow eyesore that was Emma's car, finally returning to her mausoleum to finish what she had started before she was interrupted. The evidence of her attempt on Emma's life needed to be hidden.

She weaved through stacks of magical artifacts and tomes to the end of the chamber, where deep shelves were cut into the stone from floor to ceiling. Climbing the ladder to the highest shelf, Regina drew out a polished wooden box. She reached within her trouser pocket, removing the white wisps of Marian's cursed hairs and placing them inside the palm sized box. Her fingers dove into her pocket again to repeat the action for the spell page, but came up empty.

She roughly patted the sides of her trousers and blazer, trying to feel for the thick paper. Still balancing on the ladder, she shrugged off her blazer in frustration and methodically checked and turned out each of the jacket pockets.

Regina racked her brain, trying to recollect the events of the day. She tried to visualise the beige parchment, remembering the feel of its coarse texture between her fingers. Where she had left it? Her stomach dropped at the realisation. The last time she remembered seeing it was the previous evening, on Emma Swan's bedside table.

* * *

_A/N: For those for you who have been with the story since it was first posted, I'm sorry if it seemed like I fell of the face of the Earth for a while there! Also, my apologies for updating/merging the previous chapters. Being the rookie that I am, I merged chapters and didn't realise the consequences of that until later. Thanks for sticking with me._


	9. Make Eyes

Regina sped through the lightly fogged outskirts of Storybooke as fast as her sleek, black Mercedes would carry her without arousing suspicion. After realising where the spell page was, her initial impulse was to teleport straight into Emma's bedroom and retrieve it. However, her hasty plan been abandoned when Henry called to inform her that he was at Emma's and would be home for dinner.

The sweat from her palms was making the steering wheel increasingly slippery and hard to grip. She alternated wiping each hand against her slacks and tried to remain calm amidst the internal storm of racing thoughts. She assumed a torn manuscript with Elvish incantations would stick out like a sore thumb in the Saviour's mostly vacant bedroom, but clearly Emma hadn't seen the paper yet. If she had, Regina imagined she wouldn't have been be quite so cordial earlier.

Climbing out of the car, Regina was met with a chilly wind, bringing with it the sweet, pungent smell of incoming rain. She observed the dark, gathering mass of clouds that loomed over the starry night and instinctually turned her blazer collar up and hugged the garment closer. She strode up to the door, knocked thrice and stepped back. Regina heard the smile in Emma's low voice before the door was fully open. "Hey you – "

"Oh, Regina. Hi. I thought you were –" Emma began, fumbling over her words, "I thought I was dropping Henry off at yours."

"I was in the neighbourhood," Regina explained quickly.

Emma's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "You know that this is still in your neighbourhood right?"

"Right, may I come inside?" Regina continued politely.

"Sure," Emma said, stepping aside to allow her through.

"Going somewhere?" Regina asked casually, noting the change in her look. Emma was wearing a thin, cotton house robe but also slightly more make up than usual.

"Killian's picking me up later," Emma said, a faint blush tinting her checks, "Or rather, he's walking and then I'm driving him."

"Killian?" Regina frowned, slipping off her muddy heels.

"Jones," Emma clarified, "You didn't expect me to still be calling him Hook did you?"

"Of course not," Regina said, feeling silly for drawing a blank. She surveyed the familiar living room. The high white walls were contrasted by a long, black, leather couch that sat in front of a wood panelled feature wall. A giant flat screen hung on the dark, burgundy wall and was surrounded by transparent shelves which stored new and vintage gaming consoles. Her previous impression had been right; the space looked very inviting. It was the dream living room for any teenage boy. "Where's Henry?"

"He's with Elsa, finishing up homework," Emma said, walking past the living room, beckoning Regina to follow.

"I didn't realise she was an expert on the 9th grade syllabus." Regina walked behind Emma down the bright hallway lined with music memorabilia and family photos. She was surprised to see a photo of Henry and herself among the gleaming pictures of the Charming clan.

Emma pushed the door at the end of the hallway further open. "It's more like he's schooling her on the difference between Marvel and DC."

That was indeed what they found when they entered - Henry animatedly demonstrating something in an illustration while Elsa listened with equal enthusiasm.

"Hey Mom," Henry said cheerily, "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I would pick you up, sorry to interrupt your story" Regina greeted him with a kiss to the forehead. She smiled and nodded towards Elsa, who sat on the edge of a bed, so laden with colourful comic books she could scarcely make out the pattern of the cover underneath.

"It's okay, Elsa was just about to go eat anyway," Henry said, "Plus I'm starving too, so good timing."

"Yes," Elsa added as she stood up, "Emma, would you mind showing me how to operate the magical cooker again?"

"If you mean the microwave, then yes," Emma grinned, leading the way as they exited the room.

Regina waited patiently while Henry gathered the scattered contents of his backpack. His room here looked slightly more grown up from the one at home. The stripes and storybooks of his childhood bedroom had been replaced with movie posters and graphic novels, the soft toys and board games with action figures and video games. Regina beamed at bow tied Mr. Bear in the corner of his desk. At least one survivor of his furry boyhood companions had made it here, she thought wistfully.

"Okay, I'm ready." Henry announced, slinging his bag over one shoulder.

"I don't think so young man, what about those?" Regina reprimanded, pointing to the mountain of comic books and corresponding protective sleeves that littered the bed.

"Aww, come on Mom, I'll do that when I'm here tomorrow night," Henry pleaded with a wide-eyed pout.

"Those eyes may work on Emma, but they don't on me. You will put them away now," Regina said with finality, "I'll be waiting in the living room."

Regina headed down the hallway and stopped outside Emma's room. She listened for confirmation of movement in the kitchen before she twisted the door handle and cautiously poked her head inside. Illumined by cool white, artificial light, the bedroom looked even barer than her memory of it. She immediately noticed the ensuite, a feature she had missed in her inventory of the room last night, as being occupied. Regina weighed the cost of being caught snooping versus Emma finding the spell page on her own.

It had to be now. She ventured further inside, scanning the room in sections for the yellowed parchment. Nothing. Luckily, there weren't many other places to look. She moved to the bedside table-box and inspected the space behind it. Still nothing. When she lifted the framed photo of Emma and Henry to check underneath it, two things in the periphery caught her eye: the smallest sliver of a page peeping out from underneath the bed and another figure on the other side of the double bed.

"Are you lost?"

Regina didn't know if she more startled by Emma's emergence or appearance. She was so accustomed to seeing Emma in her usual uniform of jeans and jacket that her attention was immediately drawn to the short cocktail dress. The blood red hue stood out in stark contrast to Emma's fair skin, the fabric clinging to her taut body in all the right places. The bulk of her golden hair was pinned back into an elegant knot at the base of her head, showing off her sculpted shoulders and arms.

"I was looking for the bathroom," Regina stated coolly, despite her rapidly rising body temperature.

Emma scratched the back of her neck nervously. The expression that passed across Regina's features as her darkening eyes unashamedly wandered down the length of her body, washed away any of Emma's misgivings about her unexpected presence. "It's across the hall," Emma said dryly, managing a small smirk under Regina's brazen stare.

"Thank-you," Regina said, returning the smirk. She maintained eye contact while she set down the photo frame and slowly nudged the paper further under the bed with the point of her foot. She would have to return for it later.

"Zip me up?" Despite her capability of doing so herself, the question tumbled out of Emma's mouth without a second thought.

"Turn around," Regina ordered lowly. Emma obeyed and turned to face the ensuite door. Crossing the room, Regina was rewarded with a stunning view of smooth, bare back, free from the supervision of Emma's perceptive gaze.

Emma breathed in the wafted scent of subtle floral perfume as Regina neared. She sensed the fabric at the base of her back pinch as Regina grasped the zipper and dragged it upwards, in a movement so slow, it had to be deliberate. The hairs on her neck rose as warm fingers continued to trace upwards, long after the zipper track had ended.

"I'm sorry."

The sombre words were barely a whisper. Emma twisted to look at the other woman over her shoulder. "For what?"

"This," Regina replied, her fingers ghosting over an imaginary bruise.

The touch sent a shiver down Emma's spine. Or maybe it was the cold. She glanced towards the closed window before turning fully to face Regina. A few shorter layers of silken hair escaped the bun with the motion, causing them to fall loosely around her face.

"It's okay. It's gone now," Emma assured her, catching the gaze of solemn dark eyes.

Regina experienced a sudden urge to sweep the stray blonde strands back and inched closer. Her hand began to rise of its own volition, but she resisted and redirected them, slipping an index finger under the slack strap of Emma's dress, guiding it up and over her collarbone.

Emma shivered again, visibly. Her eyes darted to the window once more. It was still closed.

"Regina did you…" Emma began, wanting to ask about the mysterious disappearance of her bruise. After witnessing Regina heal Tink, it was a fair assumption to make. Her theory however, had one flaw. Healing required physical contact, and before this moment, where they stood so close they could hear the sound of each other's shallow breaths, there had been none.

"Did I..?" Regina repeated slowly, enunciating each short syllable.

"Emma?" The sound of Snow's voice from the hallway caused them to shoot apart like two magnets of the same polarity.

"There you are, oh Emma!" Snow barreled past Regina with all the excitement of a hyperactive puppy.

Emma found herself being crushed by the smaller women in a constricting hug. "Mom, you're squeezing to tight," she huffed.

Snow took both of Emma's hands in hers, proudly observing the sight before her, struggling to supress her almost squeals of delight. She tossed a camera into Regina's unprepared hands. "Regina will you take a photo?"

"Of course," Regina acquiesced, following Snow as she dragged Emma into the living room, where everyone, including Charming and Hook, was waiting.

"You've been holding out on me Swan," Killian said, taking in the view.

Regina observed the liberal application of eyeliner to the border of his eyes, holding back a remark of her own. She watched as Hook greeted Emma with a peck on the cheek.

"Ok places everyone. Henry, Elsa, come on," Snow directed, gesturing around her.

"Oh no, I couldn't, it seems like a family moment." Elsa replied, standing behind Regina who was focusing the camera.

Snow stood to Emma's left, holding her waist. Hook took his place to her right, draping an arm over her shoulders. Henry and Charming rose to join them, standing on the borders.

Hook turned towards Emma, gleaming. "Swan, you look beautiful."

"She does," Regina agreed with a dazzling smile, locking eyes with the blonde before she snapped the picture.

Emma felt the heat of the comment flush her body instantly. She hoped the blush that ravaged her face wouldn't be as noticeable in the photo.

* * *

"So what's for dinner?" Henry asked from the passenger seat.

"Hmm?" Regina said distractedly. She had been driving on auto pilot for the past few minutes, silently praying that Emma didn't decide to do some spontaneous cleaning after her date.

"Did you make anything for dinner?" Henry asked again.

Having rushed straight from the cemetery to Emma's house, Regina hadn't given a thought as to what to have for dinner. Henry seemed to pick up on this fact, observing her carefully.

"How does Moqueca sound? I saw some bass in the fridge," he said suggested thoughtfully, "We can make it together."

"That sounds wonderful," Regina said, turning her head for a split second to smile at him. An image of a steaming hot bowl of vibrant fish stew temporarily eradicated the niggling doubt that was burrowing itself into the back of her mind.

* * *

Emma felt very drowsy, breathing in scent of leather and rum, listening to even breaths and pounding rain as she lay her head against Killian's chest. She had missed this the most. This feeling of being contented after a heavy meal and one too many red wines, snuggled into the couch with a warm body on a rainy night. She felt at ease; he was easy to be with.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look," Killian said.

"Only about ten times during dinner," Emma laughed self-consciously, shoving him lightly in the ribs. She couldn't help but wonder why the phrase seemed to loose its effect on her with every repetition.

"Emma, what's wrong?" Killian questioned, sensing she was adrift.

"Nothing," she lied.

"You can tell me," he said gently, stroking her loose hair.

"There's just something about her," Emma began, "It's so disarming."

Killian pulled away slightly to look at her. "You're still thinking about the Snow Witch?"

Emma looked into the deep pools of liquid blue, so full of concern for her. It was unnerving to see such affection. Maybe in time she could reciprocate, maybe even grow to love him.

"Yes, the Snow Queen," Emma continued, "She was talking to me as if she knew me."

"From what Elsa told us about the photo, it looked like she did know you, along with the rest of the town. She must have erased her existence from everyone's memories."

"No, it's more like she knew me before Storybrooke," Emma explained, not sure of whether it made any sense.

"Like a childhood friend?" Killian asked.

"Something like that."

Killian grew silent. He opened his mouth, as if to ask a question, but then closed it again. Emma sat upright, watching as he struggled for the right words.

"What was your childhood like?" Killian finally asked, his tone curious, but hesitant.

The question was innocent enough, Emma thought to herself. It was natural to know more about the person you cared about. Nevertheless, she already felt herself retreating, unfolding her legs from beneath her and pulling away. "I don't really like to talk about it."

"I'm sorry, you don't have to." Killian cast his eyes downward.

"It's okay. I can show you instead."

"Will you?" he said hopefully.

Emma stood from her warmed spot on the couch. "I don't have much - only one box."

Killian followed her lead, the leather groaned with the shift of his weight.

"Whoa, hold on Mister." Emma lay a hand on his shoulder. "The bedroom will not be part of your tour tonight."

"Tomorrow night then." Killian winked.

"Wait here", she commanded, unable to control the slight tug at the corners of her mouth, "I think it's under my bed."

* * *

_I really appreciate your reviews and follows, thank-you. Hopefully there was enough SwanQueen sizzle in there to outfizz the CaptainSwan snuggling._


	10. Downpour

On her hands and knees, Emma reached underneath the bed, swiping blindly at the darkness until her fingers struck cardboard. She pulled the small shoebox towards her. A folded piece of thick paper was dragged out with the box, along with a light could of disturbed dust. Emma unfolded the strange brown paper in a sneezing fit. She knew the curved, slanted script well enough to identify the language, but not well enough to read the passage inscribed on the grainy page. She opened the box and slipped it inside, making a mental note to ask Regina or Belle about it later.

When she returned to the couch she found Killian quietly snoring, his head lolled to one side and mouth slightly agape. She sat beside him and shook his shoulder. "Maybe I should drive you home."

Killian shot up, wiping his eyes quickly. "No, I'm awake," he insisted.

"Oh yeah? Why do you sound like a four year who's up past his bedtime," she sniggered.

"Can I look?" Killian motioned towards the box.

Emma handed the box over reluctantly. He opened the lid with the biggest grin, staring in wonder at the precious mementos that lay within. Polaroids from another life, lists of schools and addresses, a blue stoned ring, a birthday card, used stickers that had been pried off bedposts, he extracted them all individually. She felt oddly exposed as he riffled though the box's contents, like he was reaching into her childhood itself, tugging open recollections she had worked so hard to sew shut.

"What's this," Killian asked, curiously shaking a large, black cassette.

Emma pulled the tape from his hands. "That is a VHS."

At the end of the tape, Emma found herself blinking away shallow wells of tears. She stared at the pixelated black and white static on the screen. She had been completely unprepared for the Snow Queen's appearance in the shakily shot home video. To survive was to forget. That was her motto and it had served her well until now. It was not being able to remember that disturbed her most. Seeing the video now and not being able to identify the house or even the faces of the other children, brought hot, heavy tears to the surface. Emma tried to wipe them away discretely.

"You alright love?" Killian questioned, rubbing a hand on her knee.

"Yeah. Fine," Emma sniffed, glancing at the clock, "It's getting late."

The couch squelched loudly as Killian moved closer. He put his arm around her, trying his best to comfort her. "You don't want to talk about what we just saw? About the Snow Witch being your foster mother?"

"I'm tired. Can we talk about it tomorrow?" Emma said with a long sigh. She didn't want to be alone but she didn't feel like being touched either. In an effort to ease the rejection, Emma tilted her head down and kissed the hand that rested on her shoulder before she physically removed it. "I'll drive you home now."

Killian looked like he had more to say, but seemed to read her emotions with great accuracy and didn't push the topic further. "Alright, tomorrow then," he smiled softly, getting up from the couch.

While his reaction was one she had desired, Emma felt an irrational surge of anger toward him. _Why did he have to be so understanding. _Emma donned a leather jacket over her dress, watching Killian as he ejected the cassette from the player and carefully returned it, along with the rest of the items, to the shoebox.

* * *

"I know you're too old for this," Regina mumbled from her perched position on the edge of Henry's bed, slowly raking her fingers through his thick hair.

"I don't mind," Henry yawned widely, his eyes already beginning to droop.

Regina smiled down at him, gently massaging her fingertips into his scalp. She remembered doing this every night when Henry was a toddler, singing lullabies and stroking his hair until the inevitable rumblings of pintsized snores began.

"Night Mom," he exhaled sleepily.

"Good night sweet boy," she whispered back, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead. She tucked the covers snugly around his shoulders and retreated quietly to the door. She took one last look at Henry's peaceful face before switching the light off. His lanky form was spread like a star fish under the thick duvet, his socked feet sticking out peculiarly. Even in sleep, he reminded her of Emma.

* * *

The rain had begun innocently. The first few uncertain drops speckled the windshield as lightning flashed inthe distance. By the time Emma pulled up outside Killian's place, it had morphed into a downpour of torrential proportions, hammering down on the Bug's metal roof with ferocious intent. Booming thunder crackled so loudly over the storm, she could no longer hear the familiar rattle of the old engine.

They had barely spoken for the duration of the short drive and Emma felt as though she was to blame for the silence. She was also slightly relieved - she didn't want to talk over the storm anyway. Killian unclicked his seatbelt as Emma reached behind and under the passenger seat to retrieve her umbrella. When she came back up, Killian was leaning toward hers. His distinctive scent, of salty molasses mixed with mild, rubbery cologne, invaded her nose. She turned her head at the last second so his lips landed on her cheek.

Killian withdrew slowly, a sad smile plastered across his handsome features. He looked over her shoulder to the backseat, where the shoebox lay. "You're going to her place, aren't you?" he uttered softly. The sound of pummelling rain was not enough to mask the undercurrent of hurt in his question.

Emma hadn't brought the box along with the intention of going to Regina, however, Killian's supposition seemed to illuminate a latent desire within her. She lifted his chin and pecked his lips; a consolation prize for his understanding. "Yes," she said finally, placing the umbrella in his hand.

"I get it, sometimes we just need a mate more," Killian said, bringing Emma's hand to his lips, "Goodnight love."

* * *

Shifting the faucet to maximum temperature and pressure, Regina shed her clothes and waited for the water to heat. When misty vapour began to fog the shower glass, she pressed play on speakers. She relished in the temporary relief of the searing spray as it seeped into the aching muscles of her neck and shoulders. The slow, lonely beginnings of a dramatic piano arrangement rang out, the rounded notes enriched by the acoustic space. For the length of one ballade, she would allow herself to feel.

Regina was sick of herself. Sick and exhausted. There was no excuse for what she had attempted with Emma. Like so many others before her, Emma had simply fallen into the line of sight of Regina's defence mechanism. Regina rested her head against the cool tile, slick with dewy condensation. She closed her eyes, sailing the wave of rage and regret, the same one she had charted all of her adult life. She wanted to scream, but couldn't, needed to cry, but wouldn't. Crying was for the weak. Regina drove her fist into the wall, punching the hard tile in frustration, one, two, three times. The forceful thwacks of impact were muted by the sound of falling water and the frantic climax of resounding notes.

The initial pain shot through her tender knuckles, radiating through her hand and, just as quickly as it appeared, the feeling dulled. Hearing the first of the final four bars of music was her cue to twist the faucet in the opposite direction. Regina held herself under the icy spray for a few numbing seconds before shutting off the flow completely. To her surprise, a thin trickle of blood ran down her hand. She observed the bulbous, crimson droplets form atop shallow cuts across her knuckles and watched as they fell, their red hue diluted by the residual pool of water at her feet.

A loud ringtone broke through her daze. After a moments uncertainty, she accepted the call, not knowing who was on the other side. She did her best to put on a menacing tone. "Someone's house better be on dragon fire."

Emma's voice chuckled half-heartedly through the speakers, "Dragon fire?"

Regina heard the weakness in Emma's amplified laugh. It echoed emptily around the confined area. "Inextinguishable flames," she replied, waving the thought away, "Are you alright?"

There was a pregnant pause before a quiet reply followed. "I'm outside."

"Give me a minute." The phone clicked and Regina realised she was cold. She stretched for a fresh towel and slipped on a night dress and matching silk gown. She washed her bloodied knuckles and briefly contemplated putting more clothes on. She decided against it; there was something in Emma's voice that begged for urgency.

"Come in." Regina swung the door open wide, standing on one side to let Emma into the foyer. Emma's hair had turned a dirty blonde from saturation. Long wisps stuck to her face around her eyes, which were smudged with dark makeup. Regina looked back at Emma's car and pushed the door shut, wondering how she'd managed to get so wet walking from the street to the entrance.

Emma was thankful for the rain. She had driven to the mansion in tears, which was no easy feat under heavily fogged glass and short glimpses of the road between overworked windscreen wipers. "I know, I must look like a drowned rat," she said, shaking her hair free from the loose bun.

"You're mascara is running so I was going to say wet raccoon," Regina teased lightly, holding her uninjured hand out for Emma's jacket.

Emma smiled faintly. "Hold this?" she asked, uncovering a sand coloured shoebox from beneath her jacket, which appeared to have shielded the top half of her dress from the brunt of the rain.

Regina nodded, grasping the box with both hands while Emma hung the wet leather on the door handle. Her nose wrinkled at the water that dripped from the sleeves onto the polished floors.

"Shit Regina, you're bleeding," Emma said in alarm, reaching forward, gently pulling Regina's injured hand into both of hers.

Regina registered a weak throb of pain at Emma's touch. "It's fine," she assured the blonde, pulling her hand away.

Emma didn't let go. She examined the raw knuckles and regarded Regina's damp hair, immediately recognising the injury as self-inflicted. She held Regina's hot fingers in her cold ones and looked into her eyes. "Can you teach me how to heal this?"

Regina glanced down at their hands. "You already know how."

Emma looked down in astonishment, running her fingers over healed knuckles. "I didn't feel anything."

"Magic is inseparable from emotion," Regina said, unclasping their hands, "Emma, are you okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that," Emma said jokingly, taking the box back from Regina.

"You're the one who showed up at my door," Regina said seriously, crossing her arms across her torso.

"Sorry, I wanted to show you this," Emma rambled, holding up the box, "But it can wait, I'll go."

Regina was exhausted. Her feet ached from hiking in heels and her mind felt drained from lack of sleep. She wanted nothing more than to collapse on her bed, but instead she rested a reassuring hand on Emma's arm and tried to keep out the drowsiness out of her reply. "Show me," Regina said, "but first we have to get you cleaned up - I can't take to you seriously with those raccoon eyes."

* * *

Emma waited patiently on a cream chaise lounge, nestled between a fireplace and a wide, bay window. The hollow wind whipped the glass behind her but Emma was too immersed in her own thoughts to pay it any attention. She studied the room, her bare feet grazing the thick rug below, welcoming the heat from the blazing fire upon them. Regina's bedroom was spacious, but not much larger than her own. For some reason she had expected it to be bigger and perhaps more like her office - magnificent and striking, leaving the visitor with the impression of cold authority.

Elements of the room were not dissimilar to her office. Like all the spaces Regina occupied, her bedroom exuded a degree of sophistication Emma could never dream of attaining. The dark mahogany of the bed frame and dresser contrasted perfectly with the complimentary shades of beige and white in the walls and furnishings. Taken as a whole, Regina's personal space communicated warmth. The feeling was only reinforced by the fire, which cast its soft yellow-orange flicker across all surfaces and coloured the cosy space with romantic inclination; it unnerved her.

Regina returned from the bathroom with makeup remover and wipes. She took a seat next to Emma, their knees touching as she reached forward to hold her face, her other hand raised with a wipe to her eyelid. Emma lent away slightly, as if the contact had startled her. Regina waited, until Emma shut her eyes and allowed her to clean her face.

"May I ask you a personal question?" Regina began cautiously, taking care when she pressed the wet cloth gently around darkened eyelids.

"Sure," Emma smiled.

"You moved in a while ago and the rest of your house is furnished," Regina said, feeling Emma's muscles tense underneath the cloth, "So why is your room so empty?"

It was a simple question, but to Emma, Regina might as well have asked why she was right handed. "Well, most of the valuable stuff – the cameras and records – all belonged to Neal and the other stuff is from the apartment we had in New York." Emma sighed. "As for my room, I guess I've never had a lot of stuff. It was easier that way. My homes have never been...permanent."

"Done," Regina stated with one final swipe of the cloth. She regarded her efforts, taking in the newly revealed, bare skin. Emma was the definition of natural beauty. Her fair skin was, for the most part, blemish free. There were a couple of small scars on her forehead: a small circular dot above her eyebrow and a long, thin line that ran into her hairline. Regina wondered of their origins.

She knew almost everything there was to know about the woman on paper. The information Sydney had gathered was very comprehensive. The details surrounding Emma's appearance in this world, the cities she had lived in, the length for her incarceration, Regina had read all the files. Except one. It contained a list so long its pages required staples. She had not read it, nor could she ever bring herself to do so.

"How many foster homes did you have?" Regina asked quietly. She held her breath, afraid to know the answer.

"That's more than one question," Emma said, her voice low. She opened her eyes, already missing the warm fingers on her neck. Regina's face was so close to her own she could see the reflection of animated flames in warm, chocolate eyes. "Between 50 and 60. A social worker once said it was the most that she'd ever seen," she admitted, her tone monotonous, as though she were talking about someone else, "But you don't really keep count after 30."

Regina tore her gaze away from hard, expressionless green eyes and cast it towards the bright embers of crackling tinder. She felt heaty bile rise in her throat doing the quick calculation in her head. An average of three homes a year.

"Okay, my turn," Emma said, more loudly than necessary given the distance between them. She held up a torn spell page. "I found this in my room. Do you know what it is?"

Regina's heart stopped. She reached for the page, feigning confusion. "You came at midnight to show me an old page?"

Emma face turned to stone and she pulled the page back, probing dark eyes. She repeated the question, more seriously this time. "Do you know what it is?"


	11. Cinnamon

_Regina's heart stopped. She reached for the page, feigning confusion. "You came at midnight to show me an old page?"_

_Emma face turned to stone and she pulled the page back, probing dark eyes. She repeated the question, more seriously this time. "Do you know what it is?"_

* * *

"No." Regina looked directly into Emma's eyes, disgusted by the ease at which the lie left her lips, "but leave it with me. I'll find out."

Emerald eyes continued to assess her for a long, hesitant second before Emma surrendered the page to her lap. "Okay," Emma said, apparently satisfied with her answer, "Next question, do you have a VCR?"

Re-establishing her cool countenance, Regina swallowed the acrid taste of self-reproach, leaving it to corrode her insides. "I've been here since the eighties, what do you think?"

Emma viewed the home video for the second time from Regina's bed, turning a silver ring around her thumb, tracing the hard edges of its blue stone with her finger. The ring was fake and of no importance to her, but she had kept it for the memory. She was six and it was the first thing she had ever stolen. She owned so few things, and fewer things as pretty as the imitation topaz. The oldest daughter of her foster family would parade the shiny ring around for the sole purpose of teasing her. The bigger girl would also beat her at every unsupervised opportunity. She would sit atop her squirming body and press the cheap metal into her flesh, indenting her skin until she finally screamed.

She knew not to snitch, it was her twentieth home after all and she desperately wanted to stay until the end of first grade; her classmates were nice enough and her teacher had kind eyes. When the girl had stuck gum in her hair, burying it so deep within the thick strands that the sticky, pink, congealed mess had to be shorn off, she had cried. The kids at school had teased her for the buzzcut and she cried again. The following night she had pried the ring from sleeping fingers and hidden it under a loose floorboard. The pure, vindictive pleasure she derived from watching her torturer search the entire house for her prized possession was well worth the risk, even when she was transferred to another home a week later.

Emma was roused from the past by a sharp intake of breath on her left; her former foster Mother entered the frame. A warm hand encircled her wrist and slid downwards, fingers gently wedging themselves between her clasped hands and stilling her motion with the ring. She looked at their hands, at Regina's thumb rubbing the top of her hand.

Heavy with the memories of a life barely survived, Emma's head came to rest on Regina's shoulder. She felt the gentle sting of tears begin to clog her nose and, without warning, they escaped her tightly shut lids, gathering in a shallow pool at the bridge of her nose until they finally spilled over.

Regina felt wetness tickle her collar bone and moved slowly, drawing Emma into her arms. They remained like this for a long time, Regina only mildly aware of the passing time by the faint popping of a dwindling fire and the sound of waning sobs at her chest. And though she was on the cusp of unravelling herself, Regina held Emma close, somehow finding comfort in the warm, wordless embrace.

Regina was the first to break the silence, chuckling lightly into Emma's hair. "Cinnamon."

"What?" Emma choked, laughing quizzically through evaporating tears. She heard the deep inhalation of breath through Regina's chest.

"You smell like cinnamon," Regina exhaled softly, "I'd been wondering for a while."

* * *

Stirred from a pleasant sleep by melodic chirping, Emma woke with a wide yawn. She stretched her arms and legs, gliding across sheets of luxuriously soft cotton that, she had no doubt, were upwards of a thousand count. They were not however, as soft as the body she had fallen asleep on. Catching herself grinning from the memory, Emma stiffened mid-stretch. She cracked an eyelid open - the one which was not buried in downy pillow - and scanned her blurry surroundings: Regina's room but no Regina.

Freshly showered and dressed in a set of loose pants and singlet that had presumably been laid out for her, Emma padded quietly into the hall. She heard the familiar upbeat rhythm of Henry's cooking playlist float upstairs, along with the sizzle of a buttered pan. Turning away from the music, she wandered down the hall.

"In here," Regina's voice called from behind closed door, "It's unlocked."

Emma entered what looked to be a guest bedroom and was met with a sight that wrested both thought and breath. Seated on the far side of a bed with her back to her was Regina, her scantily clad figure eclipsed the hazy morning light that spilled from an open window. Emma averted her gaze as Regina spun a white, collared shirt about her shoulders and pulled her arms through long sleeves, but not before she traced the falling line of her spine with her eyes and, just above the waistband of black, embroidered lace, glimpsed shallow dimples indenting her lower back.

"Did that incessant chirping wake you?" said Regina buttoning her shirt, eyeing a bird's nest outside with the casual scorn of someone robbed of years of Saturday morning sleep. "Pass me those pants please," she added over her shoulder.

"Yes - I mean, no, not really." Emma fumbled with the hanger on the door. She handed a pair of pressed pants to Regina's expectant hand, cursing her pale skin for exposing her hot blush to dark, amused eyes. "Sorry about last night, I didn't mean to burden you with all my baggage."

"Don't mention it," Regina said in a manner too business-like for state of undress. She tucked her shirt in and stalked over to Emma, leaning close, "I have one more question though, about your box."

"My box?" Emma's voice cracked like a teenage boy. Regina nodded and drew closer still, near enough for the scent of her to diffuse into the small space between them. If it were possible, Emma thought she smelled like a memory – of breakfast specifically – a hint of coffee bean and sweet syrup with a musky, wildflower bass note that was uniquely her own.

Regina reached above Emma's head to retrieve a belt from a hook on the back of the door. "Yes, in the shoebox there were stickers. Used stickers."

"Oh," Emma scratched the back of her neck, unsure whether she should tell the truth. She didn't want be on the receiving end of the expression she had come to know very well, what she called pity face. "I reused them. I stuck the same stickers, in the same position on all my beds, that way it seemed like-"

"You always had the same one," Regina finished, a vacant expression painted her face.

"Yeah. I used to get really attached to people, at first it was to my foster parents or siblings, then it was friends and then after a while, don't know when exactly, I didn't care about losing people. I got attached to stupid things like being the school photographer or being on the softball team. And when they were gone, the only constant was the stickers and I promised myself that one day, when I got out, I wouldn't even need them."

"And you don't anymore."

"No," Emma smiled brightly, "I don't."

"I'm glad," Regina nodded wearing a thoughtful countenance which seemed as though she was acknowledging something within herself.

* * *

Regina wiped the flour dust from her fingers on the clean tea towel draped over her shoulder before answering the knock at the front door.

"Hi Regina, is Emma here?" Charming said breathlessly, Elsa close behind him, "Her car's outside."

"She's in the kitchen," Regina replied, "but I hardly -"

"Thanks." Charming didn't wait for another word. He kicked off his boots and touched her arm lightly as he marched past, leaving Regina to question what break in her own personality had made him feel comfortable enough to enter without invitation. With no choice but to follow him, she ushered Elsa quickly inside.

"Wow kid, don't tell your Grandpa but these are way better than his," Emma said, smacking her lips in satisfaction and patting her pancake stuffed belly.

"Well you both helped too, thank-you," he replied, puffing his chest out slightly, looking quite proud of himself for a moment before his face fell when he looked towards the approaching footsteps.

"He's behind us, isn't he?" Emma said to Henry, who confirmed with a nod.

"First you don't answer my calls and now you're berating my pancakes," David said with a chipper laugh, clapping both Emma and Henry on the back, "Good morning."

"Morning Grandpa," Henry said, "Hi Elsa."

"Hi, sorry, I must've turned my phone off last night," Emma said, moving to the sink with her syrup splayed plate, "Henry, do you mind grabbing it from your Mom's room?"

Henry hopped of the stool. "Sure."

"Regina's room," David repeated slowly, brows creased in confusion, surveying the apron and clothes that obviously didn't belong to Emma.

"Oh and her dress please Henry," Regina called after him.

"Your dress?" Charming questioned, squinting at Emma, then Regina and back at his daughter again, as if it helped in deducing the missing information.

"Yeah, I slept here last night," Emma explained simply.

"Not to worry Charming, I can be quite accommodating," Regina said lowly, popping a raspberry into her mouth, sucking on its sweet acidity. She moved behind Emma to slowly tug the ties at the back of her apron loose, sporting a devilish smirk at the look of complete bewilderment that suffused his face.

"What?" Emma said, finally comprehending the innuendo she roughly nudged Regina's shoulder with her own, "She's kidding."

Running his hand through his hair, David let out an uncomfortable laugh while Elsa looked between the three of them, smiling perceptively. "Ok, anyway, we have a lead," David said, "Robin's men have found an abandon ice-cream truck in the forest."

Emma passed the apron strap over her head. "Ok, but I need to swing by my place, I don't have a change of clothes," she said gesturing over her outfit as Henry returned from upstairs with her things.

With a wave of her hand, Regina transformed the plain clothes into Emma's normal, utilitarian attire. "Go, I'll take Henry to Snow and meet you there."

"Wow, you really have to show me how to do that sometime," Emma said, adjusting her grey sweater. She followed the others out the front door, noting an unusual tightness to her favourite jeans.

"Maybe when we're not chasing after everyone's former family members," Regina agreed.

Emma pulled on her jacket and started down the path. She turned back and waved, "I'll hold you to it."

Regina leaned against the open door frame and watched the trio walk to the street, admiring the appealing alteration she had made to dark jeans.

* * *

"I have a bad feeling about this, Swan," Killian said, leading Emma by the hand to a nearby tree stump. He sat beside her, rubbing free wet soil wedged between the heel of each boot against a raised tree root.

"Me too," Emma agreed, flicking through the Snow Witch's collection of Swan-related memorabilia.

He felt Emma's hand slip from his grasp as Regina exited the recently plundered ice-cream van to join them.

"And the award for stalker of the decade goes to the Ice Queen," Regina announced, peering over Emma's shoulder.

Killian's jaw went limp with shock. Emma was clearly very sensitive about her childhood and he couldn't fathom how Regina could be so insensitive about the matter. He turned, shooting daggers in Regina's direction.

"Says the woman who hired someone to gather boxfuls of information on me," Emma fired back without missing a beat.

"Technically, I never paid him," Regina simpered under her breath.

Killian was bemused by the quiet laugh the exchange elicited from Swan, and even more so when it earned a light smack to Regina's arm with the bundled pages.

Their investigation had run cold as fast as a shot across the bows. Killian hoped Belle and Elsa were having better luck researching as he trekked back to David's car, feet sinking into the muddy ground with each step. From the elevated, mountainous range, through a break in a curtain of wide leaves and morning mist, Killian could see the open ocean and its infinite azure horizon. He missed the sound his boots made on a freshly scrubbed deck, the feel of the salty wind on his back, but with one glimpse back at Emma, the nostalgia instantly melted away. There was a lightness about her today; she was happy, and he was too.

* * *

After interviewing several men from Robin's crew who had first discovered the ice-cream truck, Emma pocketed her notepad and made her way through their camp to the trail leading back to her Bug. She spied Regina, not far from the camp's perimeter. Her forehead rested on a bent arm which in turn rested on the deeply striated bark of a cedar tree. Her whole body shook; Emma couldn't tell whether she was laughing or crying.

She approached slowly and lay a cautionary hand on her shoulder. "Regina?"

Regina tipped her head back in abandoned laughter, the tracks of fresh tears on her cheeks glinting in the sunlight. "He loves me," Regina exclaimed incredulously, "That man, that sweet, kind man loves _me _and do you know what I said?"

The question was not directed to Emma, but instead to a spot just over her shoulder. It was an uncomfortable sight and Emma stood silent, an invisible witness to the cracking of her hard, polished exterior.

"I told him to leave because I don't know which I loved more: him or the thought of him," Regina continued to laugh hysterical cackles bursting from the back of her throat, "And in the end it doesn't even matter because his wife is lying in my study. The same woman I contemplated killing, because that's the kind of person _I _am."

Emma extended an open palm and took a trepidatious step closer. Regina made no effort to move, so she took a firm hold of her arm, her existence finally registering in clouded, chestnut eyes.

"No." Regina retreated, contorting her body away from her grasp and sweeping her arm away.

Moved by overwhelming instinct, Emma came closer again, absorbing a battery of jarring shoves to her shoulders as she tugging the flailing woman to her. She wrapped a steadying arm around Regina's waist and hugged her shaking body, her other hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. Regina held on to her tightly. Emma heard the exhale of a ragged breath before Regina began to cry, the stifled wails soon seeping into the fabric of her sweater.

"Thank you," Regina said after a long time, her head wedged between Emma's head and shoulder. She sniffed and raised a hand to wipe her tears away.

Emma rubbed her back for a moment. "Anytime," she replied, "Do you want to go pick up Henry now?"

Regina nodded into Emma's neck.

"Ok," Emma said softly, pulling back, "Let's go."

* * *

The heavy heap of books released by Elsa landed on the backseat of the Bug with a great thud. Emma closed the rusty door shut with a forceful, creaky swing and rested her weight against the old car.

"She's insane," Elsa concluded, "My aunt is insane."

Together with Belle and Killian, they had spent the last few day lit hours scouring over all things Arendale in the library and made some disturbing discoveries about the Snow Queen.

"If she thinks she can go around collecting family members like dragon balls, definitely," Emma agreed, "And once she uses her mirror to cast this smashed curse or whatever the hell Belle said, it looks like we'll be the only sane ones left."

Elsa sighed, joining Emma by the side of the car to watch Belle and Killian turn off the lights, her gaze locked sadly on the shady rows of shelves.

"I'm sorry about your sister. We'll find out what happened to her." said Emma solemnly.

Elsa cleared her throat awkwardly. "You and Regina seem to have made up," she said, changing the subject.

"You could say that."

"Were you lovers?" Elsa asked curiously.

Elsa mistook Emma's dazed expression as something else and continued, "I mean in the past of course. Not now, obviously."

"What? No! Regina and I aren't, I mean we weren't ever. We aren't - no." Emma let out an exasperated breath, "She has Robin."

"And you're with Killian," Elsa stated bluntly.

Emma observed Hook, standing by the library door, bent in an awkward position while he battled closing a large padlock with his good hand, "Yes, I am."

"But you dally with her."

Reaching behind to scratch her suddenly, very itchy neck, Emma laughed. "Remind me again, are you from Arendale or did you just step out of an Austen novel. Dally with her, please."

"Just so you know, she reciprocates," Elsa said, one arm resting across the roof, analysing her reaction.

Emma closed her eyes briefly, contemplating the evidence for her speculation. She thought of this morning, of Regina's dishabille bathed in light, the simple pleasure of preparing breakfast together with Henry and the comfort of her company. She was almost certain that the way she felt under the intensity of Regina's gaze was incomparable to Killian. However, she also remembered holding her and supporting the weight of her grief as she trembled in her arms. Emma shook her head of the thoughts. They were friends, she concluded, good friends. She made her way around to the driver's side as Hook approached them and smiled wearily. "Just get in the car, Elsa."


	12. Spell-working Seduction

"It's not working," Emma said in frustration, pushing the heavy, waxy candle aside before collapsing dramatically onto the couch next to Tink.

"Think of it as an extension of your will," Elsa suggested, "You have to visualise capturing my aunt with the flame _before_ you try to manipulate it."

"Preferably without looking like you're going to explode from concentration. That forehead vein isn't very becoming," Regina added, the bite to her remark lost to the soft tone of the delivery. She paced the far side of the couch near Elsa, rocking Neal to sleep in arms. "Don't you agree Neal?"

Emma had enlisted the help of Elsa and Tink, hoping to master a spell to capture the Snow Queen before Regina dropped Henry off, but had failed disastrously so far. She lent her head against the soft leather and examined the ashy, palm-sized scorch mark on the ceiling. "You've all been helping me for hours and I still can't get this stupid candle to work."

"Because you're doing and not feeling," Regina said, making little effort to hide her growing annoyance. It was inconceivable that someone, whose power she could sometimes physically feel radiating off her, could be so artless.

Elsa nodded in agreement. "Maybe it's time to take a break."

"I think everyone's a bit tired and hungry," Tink said with a fleeting side glance at Regina, "How about we have dinner."

Thanks to the input of half a dozen hands, Emma's kitchen was soon filled with the sounds of chopping knives and clattering pans along with the tantalizing aromas of sautéing mushrooms in herbed garlic butter and a sweet, fruity, freshly uncorked bottle of Merlot. Regina laid a sleeping Neal atop a blanket on the floor, surrounded him with a fortress of pillows and then joined everyone at a small dining table that was not designed for more than three. Elbow to elbow with Henry and Tink, she ate, listening and laughing to old stories, not being able to remember the last time she felt so full. Or so content. The food was quickly consumed and Emma ushered Tink and Elsa into the living room shortly after, declaring that they relax. Despite Emma's frim insistence that she not help clean, Regina stayed to wash up.

"Try this." Emma held a spoonful of dark pudding in front of her.

Hands wrist deep in dish water, Regina automatically opened her mouth to accept the glistening cake.

"Disgusting isn't it?" Emma said, her face squelched in distaste as she ate the remaining portion from a small plastic container.

"I think it's supposed to be plum," said Henry, sniffing the empty Tupperware cautiously.

"You knew?" Regina said with her mouth full, straining to swallow the slimy yet solid cake. "It's awful, did you make this?"

Emma shook her head, wiping a wet plate Regina handed her. "My Mom, she's not so good with desserts."

"Well somebody needs to tell her, I feel like my mouth has been assaulted."

"I don't have the heart," Emma said, passing the dried plate to Henry.

"I'll do it." Regina smiled widely, "It would be my pleasure."

"Don't even think about it," Emma warned lightly.

Henry looked between his two mothers, noting the improvement in their respective moods. "Can I go play now? Elsa and Tink just started Zelda."

"Yes."

"No."

Emma and Henry both looked to Regina. "Okay, but only if you've finished your homework."

"I have," he replied happily, storing the last plate away. "I like it when you're both here," he added before rushing off to the living room.

"You don't think it's weird that he likes hanging out with adults all the time, do you?"

"I'd hardly call you an adult, dear," Regina simpered, draining the water from the sink.

"Hey!" Emma said in mild offense. She wound a dish towel loosely in mid-air and playfully flicked her wrist.

Regina gasped, feeling a soft lash to the side of her thigh. She turned, mouth parted in surprise. "You did not just towel whip me."

"So what if I did?" said Emma nonchalantly, placing a set of freshly dried utensils away and bumping the draw closed with her hip.

Regina sprang forward and flicked the excess water from her hands onto Emma's face before yanking the towel from her grasp. She countered with a light lash of her own to Emma's backside. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood."

Emma chuckled with mirth and wiped her wet cheek with her sleeve. "Lucky enough to get some more help with that spell?"

Regina followed Emma to the cleared dining table behind the couch, from which muffled shouts of excitement were being directed at the TV by Henry and Elsa while Tink frantically slashed a game controller through the air.

"Where do we start?" asked Emma, shuffling her chair closer to Regina.

"Since I can't throw you onto a collapsing bridge every time I teach you magic, let's start with the basics," Regina replied, placing the large candle in Emma's hands. "Now, close your eyes and think about the wick."

"Why do I have to close them?"

Regina sighed, "Would you like to learn or question my teaching methods?"

The corner of Emma's mouth quirked upwards as she closed her eyes. "Learn," she huffed.

"Anger, fear, the instinct to protect the people we love, these are all occasions when magic is conjured instantly and easily." Regina saw the wick spark and continued, "But when practicing like this, without any imminent threat, there are other emotions you can exploit."

Emma's eyebrows creased together, "Any chance you could be more specific?"

"There isn't just one way, you have to experiment." Regina inched closer and lowered her voice. "Performing magic is like seducing a new lover." She smirked, watching her words fuel a mild blush and ignite the wick. Daring to reach out and rest her fingers against soft hands, she resumed, throatily, "You can feel the tension build in your gut, a tingling anticipation that grows until you can feel it in every part of your body."

She glanced down to Emma's lips, narrowly parted into perfect O and observed her swallow, hard. She returned her attention her Emma's hand, tracing a finger along the outer edge, barely making contact with the smooth skin. "Let that feeling guide you until it is no longer a question of want. Until it becomes a need to consume."

The flame had multiplied in length and reared upwards from its natural state in intertwined, serpentine threads of brilliant yellow-orange, bursting forward with no semblance control.

"Slow down, take your time," Regina instructed calmly. For the briefest of seconds, she felt a set of eyes watching her from the couch, but she kept her gaze trained on the unruly flame. She wrapped her hand around Emma's and squeezed gently. "Play with the intensity."

Although Emma didn't move an inch, Regina could sense her squirm. It was in the goose bumps that covered her arms and the quickening of her pulse beneath her fingertips. For reasons that eluded her, Regina found the sight deliciously fascinating. Slithering its way towards her, as if riding an invisible current between them, the flame finally found a stable and constant rhythm. "Good, Emma."

"I did it?" Emma's eyes opened.

Wide pupils obscured the sliver of iris that remained. Their colour reminded Regina of the sprawling evergreen expanse of the Enchanted Forest viewed from the highest palace spire, of beauty she had never once appreciated. Perhaps it was due to their light deprivation, Regina reasoned, that she perceived them as almost black. She broke their gaze, scared that if she held it for a moment longer, another reason would surface. And if she acknowledged the alternate reason as true, she would also have to accept that the fluttering in her stomach wasn't just excitement for Emma's new found spell-working proficiency. "Yes. Well done, Miss Swan."

* * *

From the opposing desk, Emma watched David skilfully toss a balled up paper into the trash can positioned between them.

"I'm sorry about last night, Emma," said David repentantly.

"No, it's me who should be apologising. I shouldn't've had Neal so close to us while I was practicing."

"We know you would never hurt him."

"Mary Margret seems to think otherwise," Emma replied, somewhat gloomily, recalling the horrified look on her mother's face. She took her turn, bending her elbow in careful aim, she threw a paper ball into the basket. Swish, a clean shot.

"She overreacted, seeing those flames and the burn mark on your roof," he trailed off, "I'm sorry."

"Ok, ok, quit apologising. I'm fine." Emma swivelled in her desk chair, eager to switch topics. "How did you know Mom was your true love?"

David raised his brows at the question. "Well I didn't, not at first anyway. She almost knocked me unconscious at first sight."

"When did you know then?"

"Not long after we first met," David said, relaxing back into his seat. He grinned, looking out the station window as if it reflected his riviere. "Snow was leading me through a forest and somewhere along the way I stopped and said that we were lost. You see, I had seen this odd, pear shaped shrub twice. She continued walking, of course, and I followed her, arguing for half a mile that I had seen the same shrub twice, insisting we were going round in circles. And then suddenly she turned and gave me this stare I will never forget."

"How does this—," Emma interrupted, only to be cut off immediately.

"The point, Emma, is that your mother frustrates me. She is optimistic, but unrealistically so. She's fiercely independent, extremely argumentative, always asks for my advice but rarely takes it and is, by far, the most stubborn person I've ever met. And I love her to no end," he paused to smile, the type of smile reserved only for the beloved. "In that stare there was a look that said I was never going to win again and I was okay with that because that's what love is - it just is. And when you know…well, you'll just feel it."

Emma sat in silence. Love is love! She thought it was the most useless advice she'd ever received, and she was including a tip given by a former boss not to invest in Oracle stocks.

"Are you happy with him?" David asked, his tone more serious than she had ever recalled it being.

"I'm not unhappy," Emma sighed. "I've been so alone for so long. Maybe I just don't know how to be happy or what to do with his love."

David regarded her sadly. "I have missed so much of your life, Emma. If there is one thing I regret missing, it was the chance to impart the will to follow your heart, not out of obligation or reciprocity, but because it is true."

She looked at him thoughtfully, trying dissect the meaning from his words.

"I think you know what you want. And whatever your decision, I will support you. All I care about is your happiness."

Before Emma could respond, David's phone started buzzing. He rose from his chair after several yeses and a curt nod. "The Snow Queen is in the clock tower," he announced hurriedly, "Are you ready with the spell?"

* * *

If Davy Jones' Locker was a crocodile holding your heart captive while being forced to watch your love lured to her demise, then Killian was most definitely drowning. Just this morning, he had watched with pride as Emma captured the Snow Witch and then in disbelief as she single handily blasted through the walls of her own station in a complete loss of control over her own magic. Maybe it was the villain in him that sensed something was awry when Emma had called to say she had found a way to rid herself of her power, or maybe it was his immense disdain for the conspicuously suspicious Dark One that lead him to the lakeside mansion.

In any case, he had been correct on both counts but utterly powerless to intervene. Under the cloak of darkness, with a crushing grip on his heart, Gold made sure that his feet and lips were glued while Emma was on the verge of being sucked into a sorcerer's hat. Through a gleeful snigger, the devilish crocodile explained how adding Emma's powers to the hat would aid in unbinding himself from the dagger that he so resented.

To Killian's great relief and Gold's fuming displeasure, Emma's family, along with Regina and Elsa had arrived in time to dissuade her. Strung like an obedient marionette, Killian was marched into the house to unwillingly do Gold's bidding. Among the rounds of hugs, he observed a curious phenomenon - a pat to Emma's shoulder by Regina. The touch was so short-lived that he could've blinked and missed it, but it was the care in which the hand was laid that vexed him most, maybe even more so than being controlled by dark devil himself.

* * *

_A/N: Yay, things are finally happening between our two favourite ladies! Here's a tiny hint for the next chapter, it will be titled Prelude to a Kiss. Thank-you all for your thoughtful reviews, they set my heart aflutter. _


	13. Prelude to a Kiss

"Silence!"

Regina had remained quiet for long enough. Painfully unamused by the cacophony of discord that had erupted around her, she slammed a heavy gavel down three times in rapid succession. The vibrations carried through the mahogany until they quashed the last squabbling voice.

"One person at a time," Regina announced, raising her fingers to her temples to rub them gently.

She had regretted calling the emergency meeting the moment she crossed the threshold. Arguing over each other en masse, the meeting members had boisterously voiced their suggestions for combatting the rolling, cursed cloud that gathered at the town borders and now obscured the horizon in all directions. She observed Gold, across the table, who had remained disquietingly silent and Leroy, who sat steaming in his chair beside Snow, red-faced and tight lipped. She contemplated bringing food to the next meeting (if there was one), imagining how satisfying it would be to watch the dwarf choke on a mouthful of dry crackers.

"Calm down everyone," Charming began, "The fairies have already started creating a counter curse. Emma and Elsa are going to find Anna, using her necklace, and then bring her to them to enact it."

Emma, to her father's left, nodded in support.

"Blue said we don't even need Anna. So I say we scratch looking for the sister, use the necklace and go on with our lives," Leroy said indignantly.

"With respect David, there isn't much time. Regina has estimated ten hours and, from what I've heard, this curse has been three decades in the making." The usually taciturn cricket jumped in with ardency. "Which is why I think we should enjoy what time we have left."

"The Doc's right," Leroy agreed, "How many curses have we survived? We can't just postpone our lives every time a new villain struts into town. We need to send a message that this town, _our_ town isn't going to take this sitting down."

"I can think of a message that only involves one finger," Regina muttered under her breath.

Leroy must have heard her, for he laughed, earnestly. "So you're on board?"

"It makes sense," Regina said. She looked at Charming, who seemed to share the dwarf's sentiment but was begrudged to agree.

Snow, to Emma's obvious shock, nodded her approval.

"Can we also go ahead with the preparations for tonight?" Archie said hopefully, "The ball was scheduled weeks ago."

"I can't see how throwing a party in the midst of an impending curse is going to benefit anyone," Regina said, checking her watch. She was late to meet Tink for lunch.

"Charity ball." Archie corrected. "And it's for the mental health awareness program."

"With all the unsolicited advice you already hand out, I thought you were it." Regina stood to take her leave. "If you have nothing to contribute, then I suppose you may hold your ball."

"Thank-you, Regina," Archie called after her.

* * *

"Anyway, Blue managed to reign in the fire but she almost had her eyebrows singed off in process." Tink laughed quietly to herself.

"That's great," Regina replied, sliding her fingers over the cool condensation covering her glass. Her attention was focused outside the diner, at the Charming crew who were trying to persuade Elsa to give up the necklace.

"And you're not listening to me, are you?"

"Right," Regina murmured distractedly. She took a long a sip of water.

"Mm hmm," Tink hummed from behind the safety of a large Granny's menu, "Because you've been staring at Emma's arse for the past minute."

Regina tore her gaze from the window. "I was not!"

"Look Gina, I understand you haven't been in the game for a while, but seriously, you have to tone it down a little," Tink deadpanned, "Unless you're going to put us all out of our misery and kiss her already."

Regina opened her mouth and closed it, heat flooding her cheeks.

"I am a bit surprised though, I've heard you usually prefer the bad girls," Tink grinned like a Cherie cat, ignoring her friend's reddening ears, "But I guess I can see the appeal, she does have the whole denim and leather, outdoorsy thing that you like."

"Shhh, not so loud!" Regina hissed, reaching out to grab the petite woman's arm. She tilted her head slightly to look around the diner. Fortunately, the fairies were hard at work and well out of ear shot.

"Come on, Gina. Everyone already knows you and Mal were more than just black magic buddies," Tink teased, a little louder than necessary. She quickly leaned back in anticipation for Regina's swat to her arm.

Regina crossed her arms. "_That_," she huffed, "is nothing more than an unfounded rumour."

Tink waggled her eyebrows mischievously. "So you're not denying your crush on lady lumberjack out there?"

"If you promise not to utter the phrase 'lady lumberjack' ever again, then I may admit to a slight attraction."

The bell on the door chimed as Emma entered with her family. She waved to Regina as she crossed the diner to Blue.

"Why haven't you done anything yet?"

"You're forgetting about the rum soaked pirate," Regina said dryly, "and the fact that all her misfortune starts with me," Regina said dryly.

"Who's to say you can't make her happy now." Tink leaned in conspiratorially. "And by make her happy I mean –"

Regina cut her off with a swift kick to the shins.

"Ow!" Tink chuckled, rubbing her leg. "So are you going to this dance tonight?"

"And be confined in a room full of sashaying fools? Absolutely not." Regina laughed. "If you fairies succeed then I'll donate to the cause."

"Don't include me with them," Tink said. "I have no idea what they're doing."

The rest of the afternoon had been a whirlwind. After an intensive search for Elsa, who had run off with the necklace which was to be their last saving grace, Emma finally found her, reunited with her sister. By the time they reached the diner, however, the fairies had vanished and presumed captives of the Snow Queen. In one last effort to save the town, Belle and Henry had helped Regina pour through volumes of texts, exhausting a multitude of shielding and counter spells. All that was left to do in last couple of hours before midnight was brace for the incoming storm.

* * *

Regina had attended countless balls in her lifetime. The ballrooms themselves were built scales of grandeur that could only befit kings, in palaces so large they dwarfed giants. As a child, she had marvelled at the dazzling rows of crystalline chandeliers and the fragile, veined wings of frolicking Fae depicted on grand tapestries that hung high above patterned marble floors. There was something about the swell of the orchestra across a gilded gold ballroom, that billowed and swayed the voluminous skirts of ladies-in-waiting and floated the rise and fall footsteps of foreign princes, that could only be described as magical.

As a young Queen however, reality soon turned lackluster, much like the complexion of brass with age. She began to see past the grandness of it all. Balls became a tiresome tradition, a way of passing time in beautifully opulent rooms filled with the surface level interactions of the perfect porcelain figures of royalty and gossiping members of court, all of whom were unknown to her. Regina doubted Storybrooke could change her mind.

"I looked at the expense report for this and I still don't see why they couldn't have used the hall for this," Regina grumbled to Henry and Tink as they walked toward the Town hall.

"Forever the pessimist," Tink sighed.

Henry grinned in anticipation, taking her hand to lead her across the lawn. "Just wait until you see it."

The brisk evening air carried the sounds of laughter and lively music. A massive, semi open tent had been erected on the grass outside. Several cylindrical gas heaters were stationed along its multiple entrances, spewing molten coloured flames several feet high, giving the impression that the great white canvas was catching fire. The whole town seemed to be here, in a mood of celebratory surrender juxtaposed with an undercurrent of fear for the glittering, lilac cloud that loomed above.

Inside, seated at a small table with her parents, Emma stared upwards, through draped fabrics and fairy lights, at the segments of night sky visible under the translucent tent canopy. She observed the figures of her friends dancing jovially to elaborate choreography that everyone seemed to have agreed upon beforehand. The fervent mood was infectious. Flutes of champagne sparkled under the yellow light among a sea of wide smiles and melodious laughter. She felt as though she were watching a David Attenborough documentary special. The tent full of disporting fairy tale characters was bizarre yet felt completely natural. The only other person who could possibly share her fascination was Henry.

"Sorry I'm late, love. Champagne?" Killian asked, offering a flute to Emma as he took a seat beside her.

"Thanks." Emma gladly received the glass and immediately raised it to her mouth to take a sip of the chilled, bubbly liquid. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted. "Is this pear flavoured?" she asked in surprise.

Her question went unanswered and she looked around the table expectantly. The chatter around them had abruptly dropped off. Emma moved to rest her arm on the table as she twisted towards the centre of the room's collective attention.

Regina stood in the entrance, one arm linked in Henry's suited arm. She wore a low cut, black gown which hugged her curves down to her waist, from which point it cascaded slightly outwards, in layers of fine netting, towards the floor. Her hair was pulled back tightly, highlighting her classic beauty. A thin gold chain glinted around her neck; Emma tracked its descent downwards, over defined clavicles until it disappeared between the soft swells of her ample cleavage.

For a brief second, Emma forgot herself and the use of her arm completely. Her elbow - which was originally table bound - missed the edge by a fraction, hitting nothing but air on its descent and effectively bringing down her whole torso in the process. The champagne sloshed about the flute, spilling half its contents on her crisp, white tuxedo shirt. "Shit!"

Beating Killian to the punch, David swiftly drew a pocket square from his breast pocket and passed it to Emma.

"Thanks." Emma accepted the silken cloth, set her glass down and headed towards the bathroom to clean the liquid that was slowly soaking into her shirt.

Regina's eyes found hers and she smiled.

* * *

"I knew this was a mistake," Regina hissed between her teeth, clenched in an awkward smile, "Everyone is staring at us."

"They're staring at you," Henry corrected, looking up proudly for a moment before he led her through the crowded tables.

"In a good way," Tink added.

The trio made their way to Charming and Snow, who were dressed in a coordinated crimson attire. Spying Emma rushing to the direction of the bathroom, Regina excused herself to follow. She drew a breath at the sight of Emma's reflection in the backlit mirror. Golden hair fell loosely in its usual style of voluminous curls around her face while the woman herself appeared to be alternating between furiously dabbing and blowing her shirt dry.

"I thought you weren't coming." Emma smiled, observing Regina through the mirror.

"Well I couldn't send Henry off alone and Tink already procured the dress." Regina absently fingered the length of her chain, looking around the bathroom. "I feel overdressed."

Emma glimpsed nervousness tint her painted lips, but it disappeared the moment her tongue slipped out to wet them. Composed, Regina moved forward.

"Said the woman who wore a blazer to Neverland," Emma joked. Regina was always better dressed than anyone one else in her presence. Emma found it hard to believe that anyone's opinion mattered to the former Queen. She looked over her shoulder and caught Regina's gaze. "You shouldn't, it's stunning - you're stunning."

Regina's eyes raked across Emma's form, taking in the tailored, black tuxedo suit and open, collarless shirt, unbuttoned at three buttons in slow appreciation. "You look quite dashing yourself," she smiled.

"Thanks," Emma stammered. Feeling the uncomfortable burn in her ears, she turned back to the mirror, occupying her wandering mind with patting her shirt dry.

"You could always wear it without the shirt," Regina suggested coolly, addressing her reflection.

Emma laughed nervously, sweeping hair away from her hot cheeks. "I don't think so. Besides, it's only a little wet."

"You're right. I might be too…distracting." Regina's eyes never left Emma's as she stalked behind her. She placed a steadying hand on Emma's hip and slipped the other between her torso and arm. "Allow me."

Whatever magic Regina was doing with her hands was working. Her shirt was dry but Emma was positive Regina's thumb didn't need to be inside her shirt, a hair's breadth away from grazing her stomach. She felt her skin grow hot at the proximity. Emma turned her head back, bringing their faces close together.

"Tell me the truth, Regina."

Regina pulled her hand away from the shirt. Had Emma discovered that she had lied to her about the spell page? As much as she wished that they didn't, her thoughts raced with potential lies.

"You've secretly always wanted to use that gavel, haven't you?"

Regina exhaled her relief and whispered, "When I want something, Emma, there's nothing secret about it."

* * *

As the hours of the night drew on, the energy dramatically declined. Killian felt terrible about what Gold had made him do to the fairies. He drained his hip flask, picturing their faces as they got sucked into the swirling, black vortex of the hat.

Emma tapped his shoulder. "Can I talk to you outside?"

Killian followed Emma outside the tent to a worn bench, just enough to seat two.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked, taking a seat. He watched her pace back and forth with a sense of apprehension. "You're nervous about this curse?"

"Yes, I don't know." she replied uncertainly, rubbing her forehead. She felt a sickening constriction from within her gut.

"Everything will be okay." Killian caught her hand to still her. He gently took the other hand in his and held on to her gaze. He had always perceived an inequality to their dynamic, but he had brushed it off. She was with him, he reasoned, and it didn't matter that he would always love her more than she loved him. "Emma, I love you."

Emma bowed her head. Killian rose to her level, and gently lifted her chin. "I can wait for as long as you need."

"No, I don't want that. It would be unfair to you." Emma had never felt so small or more disgusted with herself. This was the moment she had been dreading, perhaps since the beginning of their relationship when he told he how much he had sacrificed to be with her. How could she deny such devotion? She forced herself to watch the effect of the weight of her words register across his face. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner but you're charming and you traded your ship. And no man has ever done something like that for me."

"You want to stop?" he said blankly. It was more a statement to himself than a question to her. He nodded solemnly, ashamed that he could not control the pathetic waver in his voice and the tears that stung his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Emma whispered. Her eyes brimmed with tears at the kindness she still found in his.

Untangling their fingers Killian raised Emma's hand to his lips one last time and turned away, willing himself not to cry. If there was one thing that consoled him, it was the fact that the crocodile had his heart detained outside his body. He walked away with an overwhelming detachment from his psychical self and a new wisdom. Tonight he had learnt it was possible to feel the crushing agony of heartbreak in absence of an actual heart.

* * *

"I hate them," Regina sighed as she dropped down dejectedly onto the chair beside Emma, her dress ballooning out sightly. She watched Snow and Charming dance, wrapped up in each other's arms, faces inches apart, like they were the only two people who existed.

Emma smiled, "They don't seem real. It's like they-"

"-stepped out of a fairy tale," Regina finished, sipping champagne from her flute.

"If I didn't know them, I wouldn't believe it."

Regina nudged her and pointed towards the edge of the dance floor where Henry was dancing with a slightly taller blonde girl.

"Who's that girl?"

"He didn't tell you about Grace?" Emma said in surprise, "I think it's cute he has a crush."

"On Jefferson's daughter?" Regina squinted suspiciously, "How old is she?"

Emma sat back in her seat and crossed her legs. "I'm not sure, one or two years older."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Regina said, alarmed.

"Relax Regina, they're just dancing." Emma assured. "It's not like she's going to sew him into a top hat."

Regina raised an eyebrow at her. "Laugh all you want, dear, but that's exactly what I'm going to do to her if something happens to Henry," she replied, touching Emma's wrist lightly.

Silence passed between them as they watched the townspeople dance and Emma grew hyperaware of the arm that had not moved away and still rested innocently beside her own.

"Killian and I broke up." Emma said abruptly, in an effort to ignore the tingling warmth that spread through her arm.

Regina shifted herself to face her. "Are you alright?" she asked gently, tilting her head to the side in genuine concern.

"I don't know," Emma replied honestly, "I guess it was a long time coming. I just wanted you to know."

"Oh," was all that Regina could muster. She reached her hand to Emma's but thought better of it and pulled back. Regina suspected that was all Emma was willing to share. "Have you seen Leroy dancing yet?"

Emma scanned the dance floor for Leroy. Nobody had told him about the fate of Blue and the other fairies out of concern for the havoc he would undoubtedly cause when curse hit. She spotted him dancing in a large group with the rest of the dwarfs. She opened her mouth, both horrified and captivated by the jig. Judging from the look on Regina's face, she had caught sight of him too.

"He looks like one of those waving, inflatable advertisements on the side of the road," Emma said, straining to keep a straight face.

"Like possessed string cheese."

Regina was the first to let out a muffled snicker. Emma watched her shoulders shake with suppressed amusement. Her chuckle grew steadily into a youthful, unencumbered laugh, so contagious, it spread to the neighbouring tables and had them all roaring with laughter within minutes.

* * *

At half past eleven, as the last attendees headed home, Regina and Emma sealed Henry in the office upstairs and returned to the tent.

"Leave it to the imps to insist upon a party and leave the cleaning up to someone else," Regina cursed under her breath.

"Everyone in town will be tearing into each other in half an hour and you're worried about whether the chairs are stacked?" Emma said as she downed the last of her drink. She watched Regina conduct a procession of floating tables and chairs to a corner of the tent while simultaneously walking the perimeter and switching off the gas heaters one by one. The only illumination that remained was provided by the moon and tiny lights strung in vines above them.

"Are you coming?" Regina questioned although she knew the answer; she could hear the soft click of low heels grow closer. She had her finger on the last switch when she felt a light tug on her hand.

"Wait," Emma said, her tone half way between command and question, "Dance with me."

Regina had never imagined that such simple phrase could ignite her body with such painful exhilaration. She swallowed thickly and glanced to the disconnected speakers, her mind blank for excuses. "There's no music," she said finally. Emma only smiled knowingly and took her hand, leading her to the centre of the silent space. "This is ridiculous," she breathed, looking everywhere but Emma as she placed her hand atop her shoulder.

Stepping closer, Emma slid her hand around Regina's waist, almost losing her nerve under the liquid chocolate of Regina's gaze. "Okay?" she asked gently, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat hammering in her ears.

"Okay." Regina nodded, studying the bright flecks of light reflected in Emma's eyes. The moment they took their first steps, the opening chords of a slow electric guitar song drifted across the desolate dance floor. The mellow notes were joined by soft drums and low bluesy vocals in a tune so crisp, she wouldn't have been surprised to find a live band playing behind them.

Unable to hold the potency of Emma's gaze, Regina turned her head to the side and, with courage she never knew of possessing, drew the other woman into her. Sporadic gusts of frigid air blew in from the cold night but she only felt the radiating warmth of Emma's body pressed to her own.

To say that dancing with Emma was effortless would be a sinful understatement, for they danced as though their bodies had met many times over. They swayed in silence, neither of them in the lead as they glided across the floor. Although she was weary, both in mind and spirit, and her eyelids fought against gravity to stay open, she knew that she could dance underneath the soft glow of fairy lights, breathing in the intoxicating aroma of cinnamon and champagne for much longer than she cared to admit.

Maybe this world had its own kind of magic, Regina mused, for she had finally discovered, in holding Emma, that dancing was not magical at all. Dancing was simply the language through which souls conversed.


	14. Minutes to Midnight

Recommended Listening: Slow Dancing in a Burning Room, John Mayer

* * *

If there was any part of Emma's awareness that wasn't consumed with Regina, she would have known that midnight was fast approaching, but beneath the moonlight and the hollowed space that mellowed languid chords, every step had been in surrender to the moment. She hadn't meant for it to be so intimate and certainly hadn't expected to feel so vulnerable. There was something about Regina's presence that stripped her down, almost ruthlessly, until she felt as thin and translucent as a leaf of crepe paper.

When Regina's hand slipped from her shoulder to encircle her back and hug her close, Emma allowed herself to release what little grip she had over the veil of pretence that was their friendship. Lost in sensation, she rested her check against Regina's hair and felt herself sigh, a deep breath of forfeit which resounded between their chests.

Emma was struck by the thought that this was how dancing was supposed to feel - like unspoken desire conveyed through the gentle sway of hips, the warm pressure of bodies melting into one another and the closeness of pounding heart against heart, all moving as one, as if tethered, in slow, perfect synchrony. In Regina's arms, time was no longer a construct and she was no longer the Saviour. Gone was the burden of expectation that had rested on her shoulders, along with the uncertainty of tomorrow.

As the music began to fade, they gradual drifted to a standstill. Emma felt Regina's hand return to her shoulder and her fingers faintly brush the back of her neck. Regina's other hand, which was clasped in her own, had somehow come to rest on her chest, their fingers intertwined at her collar bone. Reluctantly, Emma moved her cheek away and leaned back slightly, but the movement only succeeded in bringing their faces closer together. The last, bending chord seemed to oscillate in the tense space between their stifled breaths and interlocked gazes.

"It's almost midnight."

The low murmur snapped her back to reality. Releasing her hands, Emma stepped back from Regina. "I'll drive you," she offered. She expected Regina to decline, but she only smiled and nodded.

Shifting the handbrake upwards, Emma brought the Bug to a wailing halt on Mifflin Street. She glanced at the clock mounted in her dashboard. Ten to twelve. Just enough time to make it back to the station for her parents to bestow her guardianship over Neal. The passenger door creaked open as Regina exited and Emma quickly followed suit to join her on the pathway. Regina hugged her arms tightly around herself, shielding her bare skin from the chilled air.

"Here." Emma began to slip her jacket off but Regina swiftly stepped forward, resting both hands above hers to hold the lapels firmly shut.

"I'm not going to freeze from here to my door," Regina assured, the amusement in her voice filtering through red lips, curled upwards in the smallest of smiles. "Go, there isn't much time. Your parents will be worried."

Emma was not one to make promises. In her limited experience as the recipient of them, she found that they were too easily broken. Knowing that Regina would be confined to the lonely mansion until she could find a way to break the curse pained her physically. So she made a promise, one she intended to keep, "I'll be back soon."

Loosening her grip on her jacket, Regina only nodded in response but Emma was close enough to see a flicker of doubt pass over her moonlit features. Knowing that it was not her words that she doubted, Emma caught Regina's gaze, searching for the source of her ambivalence for a long moment. She was mystified. Her dark eyes resembled the dense, shimmering cloud that swathed the stars above, for they appeared to be charged with conflict which threatened to descend upon them at any moment.

For one heart stopping second, Regina's gaze dipped downward and Emma was no longer confused. The realisation that Regina could, with one glance, so easily manipulate the natural rhythm of her heart, made her breath catch. She felt herself lean forward slightly as Regina drew nearer and then a soft, almost imperceptible pressure at her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth. A hot breath caressed her cheek in a low, maddening whisper, "Goodnight, Emma."

And with that, Regina withdrew and turned on her heel, leaving Emma behind in the bitter breeze, lingering in scent of her delicate perfume. Spellbound, Emma touched a hand to her cheek, still flush with the imprint of warm lips and watched Regina walk through the corridor of pallid roses, towards the mansion that would serve as her container.

Emma didn't care if it was selfish or even if it made any sense, but she wanted more. Watching the line of yellow interior light being encapsulated within the lessening gap of the door and frame, she was overcome with desire. She needed to be on the other side of that door. Without warning, her vision was clouded by a whirling, white mist. Emma closed her eyes, feeling a strange disorientation envelop her. It was followed by a powerful tugging sensation to her extremities, as if her limbs were trying to escape their sockets. But there was no pain. When she opened her eyes, she was standing on the glossy, hardwood floor of Regina's foyer.

* * *

Regina stood with her back against the front door, mouth unhinged in astonishment at Emma's apparition, "How did –"

Before she could utter another word, Emma took two determined steps toward her, slid a hand around the nape of her neck and pulled their mouths together. For all the roughness of her unexpected entrance, their lips met softly. Regina closed her eyes, fully immersed in the searing sensation of Emma's lips pressed passionately against her own, moving slowly to part her mouth and claim her bottom lip.

Emma's mouth tasted faintly of champagne and felt as though it had retained the liquid's effervescence for the slightest movement of lips caused a bubbling flood to spill through her body, arousing a visceral need which they had no time to fulfil. She felt deft fingers glide up her neck and entrench themselves in her hair. She responded by slipping her hands underneath Emma's jacket, over her ribs and down to her waist, pulling their hips together. Regina knew it was wrong. If Emma knew the truth about what she had done, how close she had come to killing her, she wouldn't have been here, kissing her senseless.

Holding her lips just out of reach, Regina breathed out in exasperation, "We can't."

Exerting all her restraint, Emma pulled back, but only enough to lock gazes with Regina. Her breath was ragged. The sight of Regina's smudged, scarlet lips and black eyes, wild with thirst, did little to calm her. She wanted to convince Regina with words, to say she wanted this, wanted her, desperately. Instead, Emma let her mouth do the persuasion and captured the lips she had denied herself for so long.

Despite the scream of Regina's better judgement her body betrayed her. Her mouth had been coaxed open and all self-control lost to the urgency of the approaching midnight hour. Taking hold of Emma's hips, Regina switched their positions. She pushed the blonde roughly against the wall, swallowing her gasp of surprise and reuniting their lips once more.

Emma delighted in Regina's dominance and matched it with her own, swiping her tongue against, and then past full lips. She tugged at the coarse netting around Regina's waist, guiding her backwards and up shallow steps. They moved together, heels stumbling across the wooden floor, until the backs of Regina's thighs hit the hard edge of a table. Their lips broke contact momentarily. Emma leaned into and reached behind Regina to slide a vase aside, the sweet aroma of roses and the woman's skin fogging her mind.

Regina wasted no time and turned her attention to the exposed neck before her, lightly sucking and licking at the thrumming pulse beneath fair skin. Emma released a deliciously low sigh into her ear that raised the hairs on her neck. Both their breaths had grown heavy and Regina wasn't quite sure whose was louder or which belonged to her. And she didn't care. Weaving her fingers into thick, blonde hair, she brought Emma's mouth to hers, rolled a lower lip between her teeth and bit down, lightly. This time, Emma groaned and she smiled wickedly in satisfaction.

Seizing the round curves of Regina's hips, Emma ground the weight of her body into them, launching her up and onto the table. The deep moan that erupted from Regina's throat, echoed in the empty space around them and vibrated against Emma's mouth, the sensory combination alone almost enough to make her come undone. She felt herself being drawn closer by powerful thighs that wrapped themselves around her legs. Regina's questing hands found their way through her jacket and started yanking her shirt free. One hand squeezed its way into her back pocket while the other sensually slid beneath her shirt and over her bare back, sending shivers down her spine.

With a handful of perfectly sculpted flesh in her hand, Regina's awareness hazily floated into logical thought. "You have to go," she exhaled against Emma's lips. She released her from between her thighs, but Emma made no attempt to leave. The blonde placed a finger beneath her chin tilted her head upwards. Regina cursed her lips for the way they parted in response to the touch. Emma lingered at her lips, a hair's breadth away, daring her to make her leave.

Defeated, Regina shut her eyes and closed the distance between them. Emma sucked on her swollen bottom lip and released it with a pop. She felt Emma smile against her mouth. "Goodnight, Regina."

Emma stepped away all at once. She turned and leisurely strolled towards to front door. Regina watched Emma walk away, noting her tousled curls and crinkled, white shirttail peeking below the hem of her slim jacket. Emma exited, not looking back and Regina waved her hand over the front door, casting a spell over it. She leaned her head against the wall behind her, taking a moment to collect herself. Placing both hands on either side, she slid off the table. Her knees buckled as she put her full weight on her feet. She caught herself on the table's edge and threw her head back, laughing crazily to herself.

* * *

Emma was in dire need of an Arctic blast after she left Regina but had settled for a cold shower once she returned home. Fortunately, her parents had not questioned her late arrival and the majority of Storybrooke residents were asleep when the curse hit. She left the station unscathed with Neal, Elsa and Anna, leaving behind her bickering parents and Anna's fiancée, Kristoff.

With sunrise came the first sign that the curse had truly descended: the sound of shattering of glass. Emma had not slept. She had only tossed in her bed wishing for sleep that never came. Gathering a crying Neal in her arms, she crept into the kitchen to find that Elsa and Anna had already woken to the noise. They stood on either side of a thick, burgundy brick. It had clearly smashed through her front window with great force, as evidenced by the trail of glass that had travelled several feet from it's entry point. Elsa reversed the damage with a flick of her wrist. Emma watched the random array of broken pieces soar backward through the air, glinting in the golden dawn light as they reunited into one pane. If only it were that easy, she thought.

Over a hurried breakfast, Emma listened to Anna's theory for breaking the curse and shared her own plan for freeing themselves of the ribbons that prevented them from harming the Snow Queen. She glanced sideways to Elsa, who fiddled with the lemon coloured ribbon around her wrist. She doubted whether Regina's hatred would be enough to dissolve the magic ribbons. After all, no matter how misguided, they had been forged by love. However, at this point, the Snow Queen's dream of Elsa and Emma becoming her sisters was almost fully realised and there was no hunch not worthy of investigation.

Anna eyed her spoonful of cereal in fascination. "How can something that smells like nothing taste so good?"

"Mmm," hummed Elsa in agreement, bringing her bowl to her nose.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about the Snow Queen?" Emma asked.

"You must be careful. She is powerful and cunning," Anna began, "Also, extraordinarily patient - I mean she was trapped in an urn all those years - if she weren't completely delusional, I would applaud her effort. Are you sure this Regina can do what you say she can? How can you be sure she's evil?"

"If she's wearing something dark and low cut," Emma stated flatly, gulping down the rest of her milk, "In my experience, up and out only means one thing in fairy tale land."

"Told you," Elsa smirked. She caught Anna's eyes and they both laughed.

The drive to Regina's through Main Street was chaos. Having spent most of her life in big cities, Emma had often romanticised small town life. With its residents trying to tear each other apart, Storybrooke had ceased being the quaint town she had come to know so well. She looked out the window and glimpsed Leroy trying to wrestle Pongo's leash from Archie's grasp and overheard Ruby telling where Granny could stick her bow and arrow. It appeared that knowing people too well also had its downside.

"Do you have a plan once the ribbons are removed?" Elsa asked as they walked toward the white mansion.

"Yeah, run like hell. If that doesn't work, I'm sure I can get us out of there," Emma replied, breaking through Regina's containment spell, "Did I mention I can teleport now?"

Entering the house, they rounded the corner into the library, where they were met with an impressive eyeful of cleavage and Regina's default weapon of choice. Emma was quick to react. Feeling the heat of a fireball as it narrowly rocketed past her ear, she encased it with her own magic and directed it towards their yellow bands.

"That seemed deceptively simple," Elsa said dryly.

"I've kept you around for too long, Swan." Regina's voice was low and harsh as it passed through her bared teeth. "To think, I could have saved myself the misery of your existence and killed you last week."

"What are you talking about?" Emma knew from witnessing her parents fighting under the curse's influence not to take her words to heart. However, she also knew that a kernel of truth lurked beneath the surface of their insults. An ominous sense of premonition twisted her gut. There was depth to the other woman's rage which contorted her expression into pure disdain, one that she recognised from the time she travelled to Regina's reign as Queen.

Regina smiled a vicious grin which almost turned her eyes to slits. She produced a familiar, yellowed page from within her dress and raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "Recognise this?"

* * *

"Mom," Henry cried, running into Regina's outstretched arms.

"Henry, I'm so glad you're safe. You weren't in the office."

"I'm okay. Have you seen Mom? She was here a second ago."

Regina had a feeling she knew where Emma was. The Snow Queen had reversed her curse, but everyone's memory under its spell remained. "Wait with Snow and David, I'll be back."

Purple plume dissipated around Regina she appeared in her library, her heels gently sinking into the soft, maroon carpet. A number of books had been displaced from the shelf and were strewn about the floor and across her desk, as if they had been searched one by one. Emma sat on the sofa, in the same spot she had on the night they met. A brown, leather bound spell book rested on her lap. Unfolded and laid open in the exact place it had been torn from, lay the single sheet of parchment that Regina had, at every opportunity, fought to conceal from the other woman.

The evidence was irrefutable. It was her words, involuntarily expelled from her own mouth, which had led Emma back to her house, to her library and finally, to her betrayal. The page was a perfect match. Emma looked up at her, the gravity of fresh realisation glistening in her green eyes. The silence stretched between them and her stomach churned with sick anticipation. She knew that once words were spoken, the pathetic shred of hope she that still clung to would certainly dissolve.

"Tell me this isn't yours," Emma said, feeling as though all the moisture in her mouth had been sucked dry. Regina's silence told her everything. She only needed to look into Regina's chocolate eyes, drowning in deep wells of tears, for confirmation. "Do you even know how fucked up this is?" she yelled. She balled the page in her fist and threw the heavy book aside to stand. She struggled to contain her tears. Her voice shook uncontrollably and she chocked over her words, "You tried to kill me and I –"

Regina grabbed Emma's elbow and slid her hand down, frantically grasping for fingers that were pushing her away. She followed Emma into the foyer, where they had, so recently, succumb to desire. "Emma," she pleaded. The desperate cry that escaped her throat repulsed her. She reached up to cradle Emma's neck, hot tears flowing freely down the length of her nose and cheeks. "You don't understand."

"No, you don't understand!" Emma shouted. Her eyes watered furiously, she could scarcely see the face of the brunette before her. "I knew! I knew you were lying when you looked me in the eyes and told me you hadn't seen this before. God, I am an idiot."

"Let me explain."

"Regina, please," Emma cried, gasping for air, which now seemed infinitely insufficient, "I can't think. I can barely breathe when I'm around you."

Regina grabbed Emma's head with both hands. "Look at me. Am I lying? I don't know why I did it. It was an impulse, a stupid impulse. But I do know this, I know I'm–"

"Don't you dare say it," Emma said threateningly. Using what little energy she had left, she removed Regina's hands from her face and backed away.

Regina exhaled a shuddering breath. "You know me."

"Do I Regina? You know what I know? I know that you secretly love French fries and you take one off Henry's plate when he's not looking," Emma sniffed, wiping away the tears that stung her eyes. "I know that you bite your lip when you're excited. I know that every time you look down, you tuck your hair behind your ears. I know that before you smile, your mouth pulls slightly to the right first. I know those all of these things, but I don't know you, not really. And I don't think anyone has even come close."

Regina had suffered physical blows less painful than Emma's words. They punched her chest, stole the air from her lungs and still had enough bite to remain suspended in the air as she walked away. Regina wanted her to look back. If she looked back it would be sign that there was still a chance for them, that their bond was unshakable. And for one exultant moment, Emma did, she swung the door open and turned over her shoulder, but what she saw was not a chance for redemption. There was only devastation.


	15. Gradations of Blue

_A/N: Hi, it's been so long! This has been sitting on my hard drive for ages because I was unsure of where the story was going. For those of you who've followed from the beginning, please accept my sincere apologies for leaving you with that last chapter. I know, I am terrible. I'm still undecided on this story but wanted to post this chapter to give our favourite ladies a chance. _

_**Trigger Warning:** depictions pf physical and emotional abuse._

* * *

There was one clock in Archie Hopper's office. Large faced and gold rimmed, it was affixed above a tall cabinet of patient files in the far corner of room so that only the spectacled psychiatrist could view it directly. The hands, Regina knew, moved silently. She sensed it tick nevertheless. With each second that expired she heard the imaginary, monotonous rhythm, felt it echo in her own pulse and take residence in her empty thoughts.

Regina looked around the small office, at the 19th century typewriter and the model ships, at the countless framed landscapes and the antique desk of pecan stained maple, all of which appeared even more dated, submersed in the golden afternoon light. Finally, she turned to the cricket. She studied the way he adjusted his glasses–with the tip of his index finger–not out of a necessity to correct a misplacement from their perch atop the bridge of his nose, but instead out of habit. It happened, she had come to realise, whenever the pause in their conversation crept past what he deemed comfortable.

"While I believe silence can be therapeutic, it can't go on indefinitely." Archie lent towards her, his seat creaking quietly as he shifted, "What would make you more comfortable?"

"If there was any authenticity to the doctorate hanging behind," Regina replied dryly.

Archie observed her with unblinking eyes. "And yet you allowed Mary Margret to teach your son and Doctor Whale to practice medicine."

Regina glanced impassively at a porcelain phrenology bust adjacent to the doctor's ear. She was impressed by his brusqueness.

"This is our third session and we have yet to discuss anything remotely personal," he continued boldly while retaining his usual, soft tone, "Tell me, Regina, why are you here?"

On the armrest, her fingers absently kneaded the marbled surface of a dull, lavender stone into her palm. "Did you know there's no magic that can destroy a soul?"

Sinking back into plush, forgiving leather, Regina relinquished a sigh. "You can hold a heart in the palm of your hand, whisper your will into its chambers. You can torture and crush a life. But soul breaking - there's no magic for it. That you have to do yourself."

* * *

Emma had been running. Her feet had drummed into the leaf ridden forest floor until trails had become tracks, until the proof of her anguish lay in a long, depressed line of disturbed dirt. She had run, almost every day, for three straight weeks. It was not by choice. She ran so she could she could make pleasant conversation with her parents at Granny's while Regina smiled over dinner with Henry at the next booth. She ran so that her eyes, despite her resolve, would not drift to the unknowable brunette as she chaired the town meeting.

If it were anyone else, she would've know what to do – what to feel. So she ran.

On her days without Henry, Emma would return from her morning jogs to a rectangle of aluminium wrapped Pyrex waiting at the front door. A baked meal for one. It wasn't enough that Regina had tried to kill her, now Emma was certain that she was intent on feeding her to death.

Exhausted, Emma threw her keys onto the kitchen counter next to a gleaming tower of matching glassware. She collected a fork and uncovered another identical glass container on the way to the living room. Tucked sneakily within the silver foil, Emma discovered a small, white envelope. She sat on the cool floor and placed both meal and envelope between her outstretched legs.

Emma ate with purpose. Her fork stabbed through red, guilt smothered sheets of pasta, moving back and forth from the container to her mouth in a mindless, mechanical rhythm. The taste of the thick portions barely registered on her tongue. She eyed the plain envelope wearily, as if it were a Trojan horse, and its contents lay in wait for her guard to slip.

Decisively, she down the empty dish and reached forward. Emma tore open the seal of the envelop to reveal a sheet of fine paper. A single sentence was inscribed on the centre of the page in Regina's cursive script:

_You once asked how I got like this; the truth is,_

_I often wonder myself._

She ran her thumb over a circular watermark, impressed between the two lines, where tear-infused ink had bled from perfect, slanted loops and spilt across the ivory paper in a gradation of blue. She felt the page dip and, with a slight gasp, saw her thumb disappear through the page. Her fingers continued to fall until they met the smooth surface of a small, rounded object. Emma pulled her hand back to reveal a purple pebble, identical to the one the Snow Queen had used to return the memories she stole from Elsa and herself.

Emma had no time to speculate how the stone had come into Regina's possession. She felt her head grow heavy. The distinct lines of her living room began to blur before her sight plunged into darkness completely. She felt herself falling backwards —and suddenly, she found herself flat on her back, squinting in the sunlight, in the middle of a small forest clearing. Emma turned her cheek into short blades of grass and shielded her face from the midday sun, only to come eye to eye with a long, green insect. It's bludging, black eyes seemed to stare right at her, almost curiously.

_"__Did you know that there's no magic that can destroy a soul."_

The familiar voice beside Emma, although barely a whisper, startled her. "What the hell, Regina!" she began angrily, scrambling to her feet. "You can't just poof people wherever the hell you – wait a minute..."

Emma scanned the shadowy mass of trees that encircled them. This was not Storybrooke; she was quite certain. The trees of Storybrooke were old, ancient even, but these trees stood as monuments to time itself. Their thick, crowded figures felt overbearing, as though they, collectively, possessed a consciousness.

"Where are we?" Emma whispered so as not to be overheard.

Regina did not reply or give any indication that Emma had been heard. Instead, her gaze was fixed expectantly upon the sky, as if she were waiting for an answer to drop from it.

Emma frowned. Experimentally, she reached to touch Regina's shoulder, but her hand, like liquid, passed straight through. She stared at her hand for a moment. She could not be sure if it was her or Regina that was unreal. Emma looked around again at the thick evergreens which appeared to shimmer, like in a mirage, as if they, too, were unsure of their existence.

Regina exhaled and turned her attention to two other people who, Emma could only assume, had appeared when she wasn't looking.

The closest of the two – a girl – had her back turned to them. A gaunt looking man knelt by her feet. His dull hair was matted with dirt and his bony wrists were shacked by thick iron bracelets. Emma followed the gaze of his wide, petrified eyes to a heart, whose throbbing scarlet light was caged between the girl's thin fingers. As Emma drew closer to the pair, she saw the girl's knuckles grow white with tension. The girl flipped her long, dark braid over her shoulder to reveal her face.

Emma gasped in recognition. She realised where she was standing: inside Regina's memory.

"Well, what're you waiting for, dearie?"

Gold's, or rather, Rumpelstiltskin's wickedly melodic voice echoed from no discernible direction, through the fir fingers of the verdant ring, now vivid with colour. He materialised beside the younger Regina, wrapped in a snug suit of reptilian-esque leather. A gleeful giggle escaped through his venomous smile and he touched the tips of his fingers together. "He will be dead tomorrow anyhow."

Emma was near enough to see the fear in the younger Regina's eyes as her fist tightened around the heart. The action was instantaneous. The prisoner doubled over in a strangled scream but Emma couldn't tell who was in more pain.

* * *

"I didn't know his name or what crime he had committed. It was easier that way."

Regina watched Archie carefully, gauging his reaction to her confession. The prominent lump at his throat bobbed as he swallowed. He loosened his tie but it did little to relax his tense expression. Finally, he regained his composure by crossing his legs. "Easier to kill a man with no name?"

"Yes." Regina said, before pausing. "No."

Archie inquired silently with a raised brow.

"Easier to succumb to darkness," she concluded.

"And had you found it difficult before, to give in to darkness?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" Regina snapped. She wound her hand around the rock and clenched it firmly in her fist.

"No. Not at all," Archie said. "I sensed some anger in you just now. Did you feel yourself getting angry?"

Regina became aware of the tiredness in her hand. She relaxed her fingers, breathing deeply. "Yes."

"Why is that?"

"Because _you_ were implying-"

"Could you say what you're feeling in the script we've been working on?" Archie interrupted gently.

Regina rolled her eyes and huffed, "_I_ felt angry when you asked me that question because _I_ felt that you assumed that darkness is a part of my nature."

The doctor nodded in approval. "I didn't mean to assume, Regina. My intention was find out more about your relationship with dark magic."

"Oh." Regina returned her attention to the smooth rock in her hand. She realised she had risen forward along the seat and sat back once again before resuming. "Dark magic was thrilling and it gave me so much than power. More than the crown."

"It gave you a sense of control?"

"One that I had never possessed. I was addicted." Regina nodded. "Once, my Father asked what Daniel would've said, if he saw what I had become."

"How did you respond?"

"I didn't. He knew better than to question me. Or talk about Daniel. After all, it was Father who finally tore me away from his body."

"After he died?"

The fresh tears that sprung to her eyes took Regina by surprise. "He became so cold so quickly. I held him for hours." She heard her own voice crack but continued, "I think Father knew in that moment, that I had changed. It wasn't until years later that I realised how much. And later still, when I realised that I had turned into the very thing I despised most."

"And what was that?"

"Who." Regina corrected.

* * *

"This isn't real," Emma reminded herself beneath tightly shut lids. Rumpelstiltskin's sing-song snicker and the last gasping breaths of a dead man still rung in her ears. The sounds bent and coalesced before morphing into the familiar cadences of Regina's voice.

_You always think you can hold your breath. Until you can't. _

Emma's eyes swum in darkness. She clung to the words, waking to softened edges of a large estate at dusk, impressions of what was once reality. Emma stood beside Regina as she regarded her past self and another blonde-haired girl. Both girls were young - no more than sixteen - but seemed too old to be shrieking with joy as they ran in circles around two large pails of water. Their hands were armed with soaked rags, which they flung after one another in passing.

They played, bare footed, casting long shadows on the lawn outside a small outbuilding. Behind them stood a grand house and wall of trees, whose mostly bare branches were blanketed in the large, black bodies of crows. Their eyes glittered in the fading light as they watched on in silent observation.

A fit of laughter brought Emma's attention back to the girls. Regina, it seemed, had tripped. One pail was still comically stuck to her foot and the blonde girl was on top of her, pelting her outstretched arms with pieces of damp cloth. "I yield," Regina shielded her face from the incoming blows, smiling, "I yield."

The blonde ceased her water barrage. "I win!" she proclaimed, her fists raised victoriously. Emma smiled at the younger brunette who rolled her eyes with a familiar dramatic flair. Smirking, Regina retrieved a fallen cloth, slopped it onto the other girl's neck and squeezed. The blonde leapt up with a yelp, "You cheat." Regina chuckled as the blonde moved to free her foot from the wooden pail and helped her to her feet.

"Regina!"

The girls froze in place. Regina's name was called again, from closer this time and the blonde dropped Regina's hand as if it had stung her. The younger Regina signalled for the other girl to leave. She was hesitant but Regina pushed her gently and she then ran across the lawn into the small building. Cora emerged from the other side. She strolled towards them with a man, whose greying hair did not seem to match his middle-aged face, pacing shortly behind.

Cora assessed the scene stoically. Emma watched her gaze flick from dark patches on Regina's dress to the spilled pale and rags on the wet grass.

"What have I said about the help?" she asked, her voice cool over her taut lips.

That we don't socialise. We speak to them with directions only," Regina said as though she had recited the words many times over.

"And how do you think I feel about you cavorting around with the kitchen hand?"

The young Regina looked to the sad man by her mother's side before bowing her head. "I'm sorry, Mother."

"Good girl." Cora seemed to be satisfied with the apology and turned to leave. "Come, Henry," she beckoned.

The blond girl who look on from the safety of the outhouse window, caught Regina's eye. Emma watched her fists, the same fists that she had seen kill a man only moments before, curl by her sides in anger. The crows began to caw. Emma's stomach coiled with a sense of dread. She prayed for the younger brunette to keep quiet.

"She's my friend." Regina's raised voice rang clear across grass.

Regina was in the air before Cora even turned to face her. Water rose from the upright pail in translucent spheres. They hung over Regina's head like giant dew drops. Each contained a dazzling reflection of the orange sky and sprawling lawn, only turned on its head.

"Why don't you learn, Regina?" Cora asked, almost sadly. She released her hand and the drops fell. But they did not reach the ground. Instead, they bombarded Regina, one by one, pooling at an invisible dome at her neck and quickly filling the space around her head. Regina locked gazes with Cora, wide-eyed, in a state of paralysed disbelief. Her breaths came short and fast but she instinctually lifted her mouth to the sky. After one last gulp of air, her head was completely submerged.

Only after a moment did Emma make sense of the surreal scene painted before her. Regina couldn't breathe. Her legs kicked violently against the air. She clawed desperately at her neck, trying to pierce the water with her hands. She shut her eyes and a scream erupted from her mouth in a stream of swollen bubbles. But nothing could be heard. Her terror was contained within the clear liquid.

"Cora!" Henry reached forward in a feebly attempt to stop her. He posed no real threat to her. She side stepped him easily and doubled her efforts.

The cracking of wood from the bursting pails caused a flurry among the startled crows. Individual pieces of wood flew through the air and snapped into place around Regina's suspended form, immobilising her. The sound drove dark birds from the surrounding trees, their large wings creating a living cloud in the sky.

Emma lunged at Cora although she knew it futile to do so. "Stop!" she pleaded, but her voice was drowned by the beating of a hundred wings taking flight. She wanted it to be over. Instinct told her to run, to follow the crows and flee the foreign landscape, but her feet remained planted.

Within the space of a minute she witnessed Regina's body go limp. This was her surrender. All the fight had been drained from her youthful face. It was replaced by a blank, eerily serene mask. Emma glanced sideways at her Regina, who remained glassy eyed, wearing the same expression as her younger self.

_No marks. _

_After all, damaged goods yield no profit._

* * *

The chirp of crickets floated on a cool breeze to raise the hairs on Emma's arms. She gave her eyes time to adjust to her new surroundings in the same nightmare. Regina sat at the foot of a four poster bed illuminated only by moonlight. Straining her ears, Emma heard the quiet sobs of a tiny body buried beneath thick blankets. She listened for a moment before the child stopped abruptly.

With a slight flinch, Emma observed Cora emerge from the shadows of the bedroom. She came to sit upon the plush bed and leaned down low. "I'm sorry I lost my temper," she whispered into the sheets, pulling back the covers to reveal the balled up figure of a small girl.

The girl looked up, tears still streaming over her chubby cheeks. Her enormous dark eyes bore into Cora's, unsure. Cora moved with a gentleness that stunned Emma. She opened her arms and the girl crawled into them without question, laying her head on her chest.

"You know I want the world for you, Regina." Cora began rocking her gently. "Mother only does—"

"—what's best." the girl finished with an unnerving automaticity.

A wave of nausea overcame Emma at the effort Cora made in consoling Regina. She felt as though she had been close to tears for the entirety of the unwelcome trip, but the memory that played before her provoked emotions too visceral to rationalise away. All that was left to do was cry.

The sound of slowed breathing filled the room and Cora lifted Regina to lay her down. "My sweet girl." She combed the girl's dark hair. "Would you like a story?"

A tiny head nodded by her lap and Cora smiled. "Once upon a time…"

Emma sensed her eyes grow heavy and began to feel the pull of sleep. She blinked her eyes and, in an instant, she was thrust into daylight. Awareness returned to her and Emma found herself in her own living room with her back uncomfortably stuck to the leather lounge behind her.

Flinging the purple stone across the floor with all her might, Emma sat in parallel with the past for what seemed like an age. She hated Regina for doing this to her. She was furious but the weight of tears still lay heavy on her lashes. Wiping her eyes, she fished her phone from her pocket and dialed. The call connected to silence. Emma waited, breathless.

"Hey," came the husky voice, finally.

Emma smiled into the phone, "Hey."


End file.
